


Tuyo

by hanzopanzo (floralstiel)



Series: Tuyo [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amputation, Dismemberment, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nonexplicit Underage, Past Abuse, Past Underage, Unconventional Relationship, Violence, ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralstiel/pseuds/hanzopanzo
Summary: He heard more than saw most of what Jesse had been up to. Practice on the range, getting in fights, regular meetings with the house therapist about his past, his present, and other meetings with the medical staff to check up on old reports and health issues. Reyes couldn't help but think it was like adopting a puppy, making sure he had all his shots.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this all on my phone, and I actually have quite a bit done but I'll stagger chapters so's I can keep ahead of schedule. This fic is a little weird lol...Jesse is fifteen at the start, and there's a bit of an altered timeline.
> 
> Hope you like it TAT

They hauled the boy in a little after 2 AM, and Reyes tartly told the operatives on duty he didn't feel like cutting off his beauty sleep for a kid. So they kept him cuffed in an interrogation room all night until Reyes walked in at 9 AM, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a donut from the mess. The kid--and now that Reyes saw him in person he could see he really WAS a kid--perked up at the smell of the food. He licked his split bloody lips and eyed Reyes, wary but resigned. Reyes sat and slid the cup and donut across the table, watching carefully as the kid stared at the food, at Reyes, then jerked forward with his zip-tied hands to grab at the cup.

"Get me some water, and more fuckin' donuts," Reyes spoke over the comm.

The kid wasn't even paying attention, he was guzzling the hot coffee and shoving the donut in his mouth between gulps, all made awkward by his bound hands but Reyes wasn't going to do anything about that just yet. An operative brought the food and water and left, and Reyes took the time to observe him.

His lips were cleaned of blood thanks to the coffee, but both were split and swollen and red, he was sporting one hell of a shiner that looked too old to be from the sting last night, and his hair was a wreck, ratty and dirty and matted with blood, old and new by the smell of it. He looked halfway feral and Reyes sighed. He didn't want to deal with a strung out alpha punk. They were the worst, didn't listen to nobody but their mamas.

Out of curiosity Reyes scented the air, waiting for that pungent alpha stink to assault his senses. Curiously he smelled...like nothing. The kid looked old enough to have presented by now. He might've been big for his age, most alphas were, but now Reyes was curious. Gangs like the Deadlocks didn't put out extra funds for suppressants since they were almost exclusively alphas.

"So what are you, niño?" Reyes asked, startling the kid out of stuffing his face. He'd get a stomach ache if he kept it up.

"¿Qué?"

"Are you an alpha or omega?"

"I don't know what that means," he replied frankly around a mouthful of donut. His voice was hoarse, either from misuse or overuse. Given the amount of screaming and cussing he'd heard over the line last night he had a good guess which it was.

"Don't be cute. Are you an alpha or what?"

The kid's face screwed up in confusion. He took a chug of water and wiped his mouth, wincing when he dragged over the cuts on his lips.

"Yeah I got no idea what that means," he said, picking at a scab on his knuckle. "I mean, the guys at the club joked around sayin' shit like that but I wasn't...I wasn't included. Don't know nothin' 'bout that sex stuff."

And the sick thing was, Reyes could tell he wasn't lying. The kid had no fucking clue.

"How old were you when they took you?" He asked, softer.

"Ain't nobody took me," the kid bristled, on the defense. "Joined up on my own."

"Sure you did," Reyes crossed his arms. The kid eyed him while he grabbed another water bottle, uncapping it deftly.

"Send in a medic," Reyes said over the comm, and the kid froze.

"What for?" He snarled. "Don't want nobody touchin' me improper."

"It's either them or me, niño. You decide." Reyes said. He didn't need to know what the kid was, wasn't even required unless he was drafted into the army after this was all over.

"In...in here?" The kid asked, eyes darting to the two-way mirror behind Reyes' head. 

"There's no one in there," Reyes said. "What do I call you anyway?"

"Jesse McCree."

"Call me Reyes."

Jesse nodded and glanced at the door.

"Don’t want no one touchin’ me," Jesse's voice shook. "No one."

"Cancel that," Reyes ordered. Jesse sunk into his chair, relief clear on his face.  

"So you have some idea of what I'm talking about."

Jesse nodded.

"Okay,” Reyes sighed. “We won’t do it now, but it’s gotta be done eventually.”

"S-so what now, huh? Gonna have a go at me like the rest of 'em? Can't be happy with just a peek, can you?" Jesse rasped, attempting to muster courage and fake bravado by the looks of him, but Reyes didn't miss the tremor in his voice, his shaking body. Reyes sighed and massaged his forehead.

"This isn't that sorta outfit," Reyes placated, "no one's gonna touch you that way 'less you let 'em."

Jesse wrinkled his nose but said nothing.

"I'm guessing no one in that shit show of a gang bothered to ask you first, did they?"

Jesse bit his lip and looked away.

"Ain't nothin' to be done 'bout it now," he finally said. Reyes leaned back in his seat and checked his comm, bothering to look at Jesse's file for the first time that day.

He was fifteen. Fifteen goddamned years old. Christ. Reyes shook his head and kept scrolling. Most of the info on him had to do with Deadlock. There were some various medical reports from when he was younger, all under false names. Broken arms, ribs, fractured jaw, various lacerations and burns, most left by cigarettes. Fifteen years, and the reports were only a few years old themselves. Seemed like Jesse had been taken on more as a punching bag or a toy—or something worse—than as a real asset.

"Got any parents?" Reyes asked. Jesse had the life of an orphan, he wouldn't be surprised if the kid joined up with Deadlock due to lack of options.

"Pa's dead, mamá's in a hospital in Albuquerque. Cancer, you know, in the lungs," Jesse mumbled, "ain't got the money for fancy treatment. Send her whatever I get from the gang, though." Jesse shrugged. "Ain't much, but it's usually enough to cover the basics."

Reyes nodded and looked back down to the file; he'd check up on that later. Nothing else really stood out to him, except one thing.

"Six shots; two dead, four critically injured," Reyes read aloud, quirking an eyebrow in question. He couldn't help but sound impressed. Jesse perked up, practically drinking up the unspoken praise.

"Yessir, real good with a six-shooter. Only proper piece I was given by the gang, reckon they thought I wouldn't be much good with it but, you know, surprise surprise." Jesse wiggled his fingers for dramatic effect.

"Those were my men you killed, niño," Reyes growled, annoyed by Jesse's candor. Jesse looked properly cowed, but like a child scorned for stealing candy, not like a teenager guilty of killing and nearly-killing six professional operatives from Blackwatch.

"You got two options," Reyes started as he folded his hands in front of him on the table. Jesse leaned back in his seat, finally looking as fearful as before. The apprehension was palpable.

"The first, we try you as an adult and you're sent to a supermax. No way around it, that's what's gonna happen."

Jesse swallowed audibly and looked down at Reyes' hands.

"Opción dos," Reyes continued, "we keep you here, at Blackwatch, until you're of age, then we draft you in. Compulsory. For life, you understand? I'd rather see a kid like you kill for good than end up in jail before you even know who you are."

"How d'you figure killing can be good?" Jesse asked slowly. His eyes were darting around the room, his arms were trembling and his knee was jumping. Classic fight or flight. A cornered animal.

"I figure it can because I've seen better things come from a well-placed bullet than weeks of debate and diplomatic red tape." Reyes answered smoothly. Things weren't so black and white, he knew that, but he understood his role in the world. Blackwatch existed for a reason, and it was because of this that he also knew Jesse's decision before he even cleared his throat to say it.

"Okay, option two it is," Jesse sighed, and Reyes couldn't help the pleased hum that escaped his throat. Jesse's eyes shot up to meet his.

"You're scared, I get that," Reyes said, tracking the way Jesse nervously licked his lips and prodded the bright red cuts on them, "but you're safe here. You probably won't feel that way for a long time, but you are."

Jesse nodded and stayed put when Reyes stood, flinching only when Reyes pulled out a knife from his belt. He cut the ties around Jesse's wrists and left him there when he stepped out, letting the other operatives take care of the rest of the process. Nothing official would be filed until Jesse was of age. For now, he was a ward of Overwatch, unofficially of Reyes' unit in Blackwatch.

 

 

A year passed and was, for the most part, uneventful. In fact Reyes didn't see much of Jesse for most of it. When Reyes wasn't out on ops he spent most of his time sequestered in his quarters or office, unavailable on those certain days of the month when no one, absolutely no one, was allowed inside.

He heard more than saw most of what Jesse had been up to. Practice on the range, getting in fights, regular meetings with the house therapist about his past, his present, and other meetings with the medical staff to check up on old reports and health issues. Reyes couldn't help but think it was like adopting a puppy, making sure he had all his shots.

He was informed of Jesse’s biology by the medical staff a few months after he was first taken. He was an omega, but Jesse still hadn't presented. Reyes was beginning to think he never would. The therapist discussed it with him, briefly, blaming it on past trauma and abuse while with Deadlock.

"It might happen tomorrow, it might happen years from now, we just don't know," the therapist explained. "Trauma can manifest itself in many different ways. Jesse's body is holding back for his own protection. I believe that once he feels comfortable in his environment his body might...I'm not sure, might release all that built up tension, enough for him to finally present."

Reyes had taken the information to heart, and he took a greater interest in Jesse's activities. The fighting stopped, thanks to Reyes' new disapproval of infighting and brawling. He caught Jesse's eye a few times in the mess, when the kid wasn't busy stuffing his face like he'd never get the chance again. From what the therapist relayed to him, Jesse's survival instincts were in overdrive. He'd been left to fend for himself in a den of testosterone fueled alphas for a good majority of his young adult life.

But now Jesse had a new home, with comforts he previously hadn't known, and with each new day Reyes saw Jesse relax and come into his own. Where before he'd been antisocial and skittish, now he was boisterous, almost clingy with those who showed him even the slightest modicum of warm attention. The mess staff definitely received the brunt of his newfound charm and vim, which earned him extra-large helpings and pinched cheeks.

Reyes swallowed his hot coffee too quickly when one morning Jesse plopped down in front of him for breakfast. He was grinning ear to ear, and his tray was piled high with scrambled eggs and French toast slathered in syrup, the eggs covered in a layer of ketchup.

"Howdy, commander," Jesse quipped as he stabbed his fork onto Reyes' tray to pilfer a few pieces of sausage.

"Not your commander yet, cabrón," Reyes grumbled, watching with borderline disgust as Jesse stuffed his face with food, shoveling it away bite after messy bite. "Slow down or you'll be sick."

"Yessir," Jesse spoke around a mouthful of bread and syrup. There was a spot of ketchup on his cheek, how it got there Reyes didn't know, but it bothered him enough to lick his thumb and reach forward to rub it off. Jesse froze, but he didn't flinch away, didn't seem frightened at all. He smiled awkwardly and brushed his hair behind his ear, ducking his head. He mumbled his thanks and kept eating. Reyes was instantly aware people were watching. He snorted. Let them look.

"So," Jesse started after washing down his food with the rest of Reyes' coffee, "I was thinkin' maybe you 'n me could talk soon about, you know, sex stuff."

"Sex stuff?" Reyes repeated with a huff.

"Yeah, therapist said it'd be good for me if I talked to someone about what's gonna happen with my body, eventually, if it does happen."

"It'll happen," Reyes groused, ruffling Jesse's hair as he stood. It was soft, and shorter than when he was first dragged in. He'd been taking care of it. He could feel the warmth of Jesse's skin on his palm, overly warm and comforting. He pretended not to notice the way Jesse leaned into his touch, or the soft whine in the kid's throat when he pulled away. Reyes cleared his throat. "Maybe sooner rather than later," he added. Jesse furrowed his brows, but said nothing.


	2. Strange New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths are revealed, and Jesse explores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the start of the explicit content. You have been warned. :)

Weeks passed quickly, and Reyes became used to Jesse's presence during meals. Seemed Jesse had figured the times Reyes frequented the mess, and made it his business to sit in front of Reyes for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Jesse was practically blossoming under Blackwatch's care. He was filling out, growing taller. His hair was softer, shining with health, completely unlike when he first arrived. His skin had equally cleared, free of blemish and wounds, though he'd carry scars for the rest of his life, stitches and small, round cigarette burns on his tanned arms, pockmarks of lighter, shinier skin. Little gruesome reminders of his past that Reyes saw him rubbing at more than once.

He did have that talk with Jesse about “sex stuff.” He chuckled over his morning cup of coffee as he remembered Jesse’s dumbfounded expression as Reyes showed him slide after slide of anatomical diagrams, all the while droning on about how his actual heat would feel, what he should be be prepared for. He didn't mention suppressants just yet. Jesse hadn't had his heat yet so they were pointless. It wasn't ethical to deny an omega at least their first heat. Unethical and unhealthy, in some cases deadly.

Jesse had left slack-jawed and blushing, and Reyes could only imagine what he was thinking. Kid went through sixteen years of his life completely oblivious about his biology, his anatomy. Hell, Reyes could straight up guarantee Jesse was in his room right now, poking around with astonishment.

 

Jesse stood in front of his mirror, naked, and almost couldn't bring himself to look down. He looked the same. Same scrawny muscles with a little more fat on his bones than he was used to. Same dusting of hair that would surely continue to thicken and grow as he aged (or not, he was too embarrassed to ask if he'd grow body hair the same as everyone else). Everything was different but also not. His body was suddenly so foreign to him only because he knew better now.

His cheeks burned as he combed back through every sordid conversation and word thrown at him when he was with the Deadlocks. It all made a hell of a lot more sense now. Runt, pillowbiter, and on more memorable occasions slut and cocksucker, though those had been spouted in the heat of the moment, when he couldn't exactly deny their truth. All the other men had been larger, stronger, definitely hairier and smellier which Jesse had attributed to their subpar living standards.

Had they known? Were they waiting for Jesse to present, just to use him? They'd never given him any real missions or duties, his own gun had been given to him only because he won a bet. They’d kept him around for seemingly no reason. He swallowed thickly. He'd been so fucking stupid.

He'd dropped out of school long before anything meaningful could've been drilled into his head. He wasn't naïve in most senses of the word, but he'd certainly been naïve when those leatherclad badasses asked him to deliver a package when he was twelve. They said he'd get a reward if he didn't look inside the box. That's when it started.

Drug mule first, then onto bigger payloads like weaponry, but mostly drugs. They'd got him young, and Jesse saw the truth of it now. They'd seen an illiterate, stupid runt of a kid and pegged him for what he was. Weak willed. Pathetic.

Jesse bit his lip, attempting to stave off the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes. The therapist warned he might feel this way. She'd put her hand over his and squeezed softly, with an equally warm smile.

“You’re in good hands now, Jesse. Whatever happened in the past is over. It's time to start thinking about your future.”  

“What future?” He'd grumbled. “I got Blackwatch to look forward to, but I sure as hell ain't doing it for the rest of my life. Hell,” he'd crossed his arms, pulling his hand away from hers, “might be dead ‘fore I reach twenty anyhow.”

He'd been treated with more kind words and sympathies but that's about it.

Now, though, he had to deal with his current situation. He wiped away his tears and resumed perusing his body. He twisted and turned in the mirror, eyes traveling down to his limp cock. His face felt like it was on fire when he sat on the bed, making sure he was still in viewing distance of the mirror. He spread his legs, snapping them closed at any miscellaneous sound from his quarters. He lived in a relatively abandoned dorm for new recruits—Blackwatch wasn't as inviting for prospective recruits  as Overwatch—and his paranoia was unfounded, he knew that, but still…

He bit his lip with new resolve and spread his legs fully in front of the mirror. He saw what he was used to seeing. Unimpressive cock and sack hanging there limp between his thighs, covered with fine brown hair. He swallowed and took himself in hand.

“Omegas will have smaller penises,” Reyes had said. “Not ridiculously small, as some alphas would have you think. They're a bunch of knotheads obsessed with size, never listen to them.”

Jesse tentatively lifted his cock out of the way.

“Omegas have vestigial testicles—those are your balls you moron, vestigial means they don't serve a purpose—and under them is—”

Jesse’s ears were ringing when he lifted his balls out of the way, getting a clear look at something he'd never known about before. He'd never touched there save for a quick swipe with a wash rag in the shower. He'd never felt anything out of the ordinary. He hadn't _known_. But now he could see it, a fine, hairs-width slit that ran from beneath his balls to about half an inch short of his ass hole.

He touched it now with curious fingers, prodding at the slit expecting it to give, like he'd seen in Reyes’ slides. Nothing happened. Was he broken? Oh god, he was, wasn't he? He flopped back on the bed and screwed his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing. He couldn't do anything right, not even being a damn omega.

No. No, he needed to stop thinking like that. He pressed at the slit again, softer, running his fingertip over the seam, back and forth. He sighed and tried to release the tension in his body, closing his eyes, breathing rhythmically through his nose and mouth interchangeably. He shifted, moving his hips over the bedspread. The pressure began to feel pleasant, though he couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t pleasure, per se, not that he’d ever gone in for sex stuff; he hadn’t had the time or the privacy for it. He’d caught others at it before, hands pumping over thick, red cocks. Embarrassing shit. He’d never had any interest in masturbation, though now the idea…excited him.

He abandoned his newly found erogenous zone and moved up to more familiar territory, cradling his balls before grasping his cock in the other. He stroked slowly, up and down, up and down. He gasped when he felt himself filling, cock growing thick with blood. He slipped his thumb over his head, jerking with a whimper at the sensation. Sharp, and so, so sweet. He’d sucked enough cocks in his life to know what others liked, but he was learning what he enjoyed himself.

He felt close—that’s what the others had said before they came in his mouth, so hot and bitter—and he whimpered and jerked, and he nearly cried out in surprise as his other hand slipped through something thick and wet under his balls. He jerked up and looked in the mirror with something akin to wonder, or horror.

The seam beneath his balls had opened, slick and pink. With shaking fingers he touched it, jerking back at the pure sensation that shot down his spine. He panted and touched it again, winded when numbing pleasure centered around the area. He felt so hot, sweat and this new, stranger slick soaked the bed. His back arched when his middle finger sunk through the puffy folds, and inside was so hot and wet he nearly went out of his mind at the sensation. His mouth fell open on a soft cry, his hips bucked, and he probed deeper, massaging in and out of the new opening with fervor he nearly couldn’t control, and didn’t have the mind to.

His soft mewls and panted breaths filled the air of the room as he rolled his hips, pressing a second finger in beside the other. It was a strain, the stretch almost too much, but it felt so fucking delicious, and the stretch gave way to greater pleasure that crested into a peak. He gasped and then he couldn’t breath as waves and waves of heat traveled down his spine and it was like a hook in his gut, pulling him toward a release so sweet and strong.

The orgasm—that’s what it was, and he felt strangely proud for achieving his first on his own—left him breathless and convulsing, and he wasn’t finished. His cock was rock hard and leaking, jerking with each pulse of his internal orgasm, and he whimpered when he pumped it desperately, chasing that shock and rush again, and it hit him, but lesser than before.

He collapsed, an absolute mess. The dual sensations in his groin were almost too much as he throbbed and jerked in the aftershocks. He lay there for some time in the smell and dampness of sex, rolling over off the wet spot only when it began to irritate his skin. He huffed into his pillow and closed his eyes, nuzzling into it. He felt overly vulnerable and soft, the slit between his legs still hadn’t closed and it was leaking lazily, but it wasn’t anything like what Reyes had described would happen during his first heat. He’d said he’d be insatiable. Right now he felt pretty damn sated. He squeezed his thighs and jerked as his oversensitive folds rubbed together. It felt pleasant but way too much at the moment, and he settled for splaying his legs slightly over the sheets. The air began to cool around him and he spoke the voice command to dim the lights. He pulled his blanket up over his head and closed his eyes, feeling sleep grip him faster than usual.

‘ _Damn_ ,’ he thought, ‘ _oughta do this every time I can’t get to sleep_.’

 

He felt like everyone _knew_. The slit had closed after that first night, but it remained slightly open since then, not tightly shut like it’d been before. He could feel the folds slip against each other as he walked and it was distracting, almost too distracting. He found himself fidgeting whenever he sat in front of Reyes for meals, who knowingly gave him a onceover, going back to his own food with a smirk. Jesse’s face burned.

It was comforting knowing that Reyes had gone through the same thing; he knew exactly what Jesse was experiencing and _would_ experience. They talked more every night after Reyes’ various appointments and training sessions, and Jesse would be forever grateful for everything he taught him, though at first his obsessive attention to detail was a little disturbing. He described in awful, specific detail the differences between omegas and alphas.

He told him about knots, and that was the part that really freaked Jesse out. Apparently the bottom part of an alpha’s cock blew up like a fuckin’ balloon _inside_ omegas during sex. Jesse was getting better with stretching himself open on the nights he felt adventurous, but he couldn’t imagine anything larger than three fingers fitting inside him, which was the most he ever dared.

“Ain’t no alpha stickin’ no baseball dick in my body, no way no how.”

Reyes cracked up and shook his head, turning the holoslides off.

“You might want it someday,” he said, and Jesse shook his head, grossed out beyond belief. No way in hell.


	3. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen, intended and not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd as always, and i'm sick as well. please forgive any errors u find TAT <3

Reyes had been away on several ops in a row, and he returned to the Blackwatch base with a small amount of anticipation. He hadn’t heard anything new about Jesse—he’d requested updates from the base doctor if the kid’s condition changed at all—and he wanted to see for himself.

“Howdy, commander!” Jesse greeted him cheerily from their breakfast table, plate piled high with pancakes and eggs, as usual.

“Eat too much and you’ll get a stomach ache,” Reyes grumbled, taking his seat across the table with his coffee and toast.

“I always eat this much,” Jesse shrugged. Reyes sipped his coffee slowly, feeling slightly sick as he watched the kid stuff his face. The nausea was a familiar symptom and he grimaced, downing his coffee faster. He checked his comm and sent out the standard hold on communications and ops, diverting messages and operations data to his second in command, then he turned the comm off. He leaned forward, glancing around.

“Listen Jesse, I’m going to be offline for the next few days. You know how to reach me if you absolutely need to, but other than that I require absolute privacy.”

“Is this ‘cause of, uh…” Jesse gestured to below his waist with a quirked eyebrow. Reyes chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, because of that.” Reyes confirmed.

“Oh, okay,” Jesse blushed, poking at his eggs.

“Don’t worry too much, kid. Mine are a lot shorter than usual. It’s just going to be a couple of days, three at the most.”

“Gotcha,” Jesse nodded, taking the rest of Reyes’s coffee. Reyes almost wanted to…invite Jesse along. It would be a great learning experience for him—and it had nothing to do with Reyes’s own desires, nothing at all. Learning experience. Yeah. Reyes shook his head and took his mug back. He could show Jesse what to expect first hand, rather than some clinical diagrams and dry explanations from a text book. But Jesse was still too young, Reyes couldn’t bring himself to have sexual, intimate relations with a minor, biology complications aside. Jesse was almost seventeen, and Reyes was old enough to be his father. The thought twisted in his gut.

 

Jesse licked his lips and glanced around again, legs jittering and breaths quick with apprehension. He didn’t need to be so nervous, he was alone in his private quarters on a private connection in an incognito server. No one would know what he was looking at on his personal terminal. No one would know he was looking at fucking _porn_ like some horny teenager. It took months for Jesse to get up the courage to get this far, he couldn’t chicken out now. He looked back to the screen and clicked around, finding a promising video. He hit play and settled back to watch.

The video was amateur, a handheld camera view of a younger man around Jesse’s age, maybe older, spread out on a bed. He looked cheeky, flirtatious and blushing as he spread his legs to reveal…

Jesse blushed and paused the video. The teen was an omega like him, his slit was open and glistening and pink, stretched wide around a startlingly fat cock. Jesse swallowed thickly and pressed play. He had the volume muted, but, growing bolder, he turned it up. He could just barely make out the slick sounds of sex, pants and breathy moans and laughs. The omega looked like he was enjoying himself, he was smiling, stroking his small cock with teasing pulls, undulating and looking near mindless from pleasure.

Jesse swallowed and slumped in his seat, palming his crotch. The video ended too quickly for Jesse’s liking and he quickly selected another. The next was much louder, but Jesse had grown bold with arousal and let it play regardless. It was of a similar quality, also a handheld camera, but this time the omega was on all fours, moaning raggedly as a thick cock plowed into his slit over and over again. Jesse’s mouth dropped open, panting in time with the wet slaps from the video. He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down, pulling his boxers with them. He whined when he felt how soaked they were, when he felt how open he was. He slouched further until he could easily reach everything, and he ran a finger over his slit. He moaned loudly, caught off guard by how good it felt. It’d been too long since he’d last done this.

He jerked his cock, slowly at first, bringing himself to full hardness, then fervently to match the pace of the video. He writhed in his chair, closing his eyes. He listened to the video, to the breathy rumblings of the unseen alpha. _Cockslut_ , _baby_ _boy_ , endless dirty words spoke in a deep, sex-slurred voice that traveled straight down Jesse’s spine, sending jolts of pure pleasure to his groin.

The video ended and he clicked to another, and then another, until he was breathless and writhing, fingers buried inside him, pumping erratically in and out and it just wasn’t _enough_. He bit his lip on a moan, screwing his eyes shut as he rode wave after wave of internal orgasm, his slick inner muscles clamping down on his fingers, desperately trying to suck them deeper. He couldn’t contain his cries as he kept seizing in a haze of confused arousal, leaking over his chair, white spots of cum on his shirt. He was shaking by the end of it, weepy and jittery.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, dismayed when he saw he was still _hard_. He felt tingly all over, boxed in and itchy. He tore off the rest of his clothes, fabric dragging through sweat and slick, and he staggered to the bathroom.

 

The morning Jesse didn't show up for breakfast, Reyes knew. He left the mess and sent for plenty of water and energy bars to be delivered to his quarters later that day.

He made his way to Jesse's room and before he even reached the door he could smell it, that telltale, sugary musk of omega. Jesse's scent was of course different from Reyes's. Jesse smelled of home, strangely enough. He smelled of cinnamon and chocolate, buttery sweetness that permeated the air of the hallway even a few doors away. Hot chocolate and pastries. Thank god there weren't any others in the hall, there hadn't been any new recruits in years, and the main Blackwatch operatives resided in other wings of the base.

He reached Jesse's door and his scent was almost overpowering. He breathed it in and held it, like savoring a delicacy, before opening the door. It was unlocked, foolish boy, and he stepped inside.

"Jesse," he spoke, catching sight of the shivering mound of pillows and blankets on the bed. Clothes had been shed on the floor in a line, leading from the bathroom. The briefs and pants were dark with damp around the crotch, and whatever doubts Reyes had were put at ease. It was finally happening. He could hear Jesse breathing in short gasps, through fits of whimpering and whining that stirred something long dormant in him.

"Lock down the east wing until I give the all clear," Reyes barked in his comm, striding forward to scoop Jesse up into his arms, blankets and all. Jesse didn't even have the energy to fight, he only blinked up at Reyes through tears and sweat as he panted.

Reyes strode quickly through the base, not stopping until he reached his rooms. He deposited Jesse onto his bed, watching as the new omega twisted and rubbed himself over the sheets, spreading his scent and sweat over all the fabric he could reach.

"Clear," Reyes vaguely remembered speaking into the comm before he placed it on his desk. His need to protect the omega before him was something primal, something he'd never had the luxury to feel before. Not many omegas were in the business of death, yet here he stood, barely resisting the urge to barricade himself and Jesse in his rooms until it was safe again. Jesse's first heat would be long and rough after such a long time coming, and Reyes would hold him through it all. He snarled when he thought of others having Jesse this way. No one would touch him. No one.

Jesse's moans caught his attention. He was face down in the sheets, desperately humping the mattress to little avail. There was no telling how long he'd been like this, whether he'd started in the night or when he woke in the morning. But he'd get no respite from the burning need like that, Reyes knew from many years of experience.

 

Jesse couldn’t breathe. There was heat all around him, inside him, dripping out of him from every fucking pore, and then there was Reyes. Gabe. His hands were on his hips, hot as fire and _strong_ , grounding him to each sweaty, cloying moment. Gabe slapped him on his ass and Jesse gasped, loud and ragged, and swayed with the impact.

“Stay awake, niño,” Gabe purred, his hands slip-sliding through the layer of sweat on Jesse’s inflamed skin. Jesse whimpered and slumped forward, bracing himself on Gabe’s thighs. He couldn’t remember exactly how he got here. He remembered last night, watching those videos, going into the bathroom, after that was a fog of sharp—too sharp—pleasure and pressure in his groin and he passed out on his bed. Gabe had come for him, he was in the man’s rooms, he’d asked if Jesse…if Jesse was willing and fucking of course he’d said yes. Gabe was attractive and kind, he’d taken care of Jesse since day one and there was no fucking way he’d say no.

He didn’t know how he ended up like this, but a toy was wedged up inside of him, pressing against his slick insides so deliciously, and Gabe was a large and warm presence at his back, murmuring soft words of encouragement and endearment in his ear, hot breaths making him shudder and clench with jerking spasms.

“Think you can handle a few more pumps?” Gabe murmured, licking at the shell of his ear. Jesse whimpered, sweat dripped off his nose and he nodded, shifting and arching as the bulb inflated steadily, growing to an impossible—pleasurable, fucking amazing—size inside of him. He whined and jerked, hips twitching back and forth, not knowing which pleasure to chase; the toy inside of him or the hand stroking over his cock, fingers rubbing over his stretched folds.

If he glanced down he could see Gabe’s cock pressing against his own, slightly larger and flushed deep red at the tip, leaking and so enticing. The older man was just as open and aroused as Jesse, and his fluids were quickly pooling on the sheets to mingle with what Jesse had already left before. Jesse licked his lips, cheeks flaming as he imagined Gabe as needy and wanton as he was right now, begging for cock, for a knot. Somehow he didn’t think Gabe would feel the same. Gabe was…

“Fuck!” Jesse shouted hoarsely when Gabe pumped the toy up as high as it could go.

“You need to pay attention to me, Jessito,” Gabe purred.

Jesse nodded frantically, and each shift reminded him of the length inside him, the toy knot pressed against his insides with thick, squelching sounds. He panted and his hips jerked of their own accord, shoving the knot further into his body. He whined and arched his back, disgusted yet uncaring as drops of sweat ran down his spine.

“So pretty,” Gabe crooned, licking a stripe up the nape of his neck. Jesse shivered and tried not to think about Gabe biting that skin, marking him, leaving a claim for all to see. Two omegas together…Jesse wasn’t sure if that was common. His lack of knowledge embarrassed him, but he knew it wasn’t his fault, his therapist had drilled that into his head well enough. Not his fault, not his fault…

“Come back to me,” Gabe spoke, his voice was deep, dark, earthy and grounding. Gabe was his anchor, inside and all around him, all-consuming and powerful. Something uncurled in Jesse’s gut, primal, startling and new.

“I…I’m…” Jesse whined, keening and shifting uncontrollably, practically kneading at Gabe’s thighs. Something was rushing down, down, down…so hot, so quickly, pooling low in his gut. He felt like he had to piss but not quite. Startled, he jerked off Gabe’s thighs with a cry, popping free from the knot, and he _gushed_. He gaped up at the ceiling as he rode out the completely alien sensation. He was frozen, every muscle locked and straining as he trembled and gasped. Gabe was crooning beneath him, rubbing his sides and his stomach as he came down.

“So good, baby boy, so very, very good…”

Jesse heaved and looked down. His cheeks flamed hotter than ever before as he took in the sheer mess beneath him. The sheets were dark, soaking with whatever had come from him, and Gabe’s thighs were equally soaked. Gabe was murmuring in his ear, grinding against his ass. He shivered, ready, oh so ready, for more to fill him up. He felt so fucking _empty_.

“You ever done that before, baby boy?” Gabe growled in his ear, and Jesse couldn’t help the shiver that shot through his body at the pet name. He shook his head frantically, drops of sweat rained down on his chest and shoulders, and Gabe hummed again. He sounded so proud, so satisfied, and Jesse couldn’t stop panting and jerking, the heat growing inside him again.

“Not everyone can do it,” Gabe said, and his hands raked through the hair leading down to Jesse’s spent cock. He trailed through the soaked curls and grasped his length, pumping it too slowly to be stimulating. “But you can do it,” Gabe continued, “you gushed so much for me, baby. You did so well.”

Jesse whined, soaking up the praise and savoring it, knowing he’d remember it for as long as he could, after, if this never happened again, if it was all some sort of fever dream. Gabe grasped his hips and, before Jesse could even react to being moved, sunk him down onto his cock. Jesse screamed, hoarse and undignified, but had no control. Gabe had his hips in a vice and wouldn’t let him pull away, he just pulled him down in one smooth motion until he was fully seated on Gabe’s cock, his omegan opening squeezing him tight.

“There we go. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Jesse sobbed and couldn’t even think of words to scream in protest. He was torn between satisfaction and pain. Although the fake cock had loosened him earlier he was still tight, he’d never done this before, and Gabe was dragging him along, kicking and screaming, into a new world of pleasure and anguish.

Gabe shifted, positioning them so Jesse was on his elbows and knees, and didn’t even wait. He started thrusting, pounding into Jesse’s sore, overstimulated body, and before long Jesse couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything, and all he saw was black.

 

“You up again?”

Jesse groaned and shifted, unsticking his face from the sheets and a puddle of drool and sweat. Every inch of him was sore, but the worst of the throbbing wrongness was centered around his groin and opening. He was acutely aware of every sweaty inch of skin Gabe touched, and he didn’t hesitate to touch. He moved and tossed Jesse around any which way he pleased, and Jesse didn’t have the energy to stop him. But his body wanted it, no, _he_ wanted it. He couldn’t deny the sick thrill of pleasure whenever Gabe loomed large and imposing over top of him, pushing him down into the filth of the bedspread, the filth they had made together.

“How long…?” Jesse rasped.

“Two days,” Reyes answered, uncapping a bottle of water. He took a few liberal chugs then cupped Jesse’s chin, tipping his head back. Jesse went easily. He drank the cool water when the bottle pressed against his bruised lips, taking only what Gabe gave him. “And we’re nowhere finished yet. Doc came and checked on you while you were out and he thinks you’ve got a few more days left in you.”

Jesse groaned and flopped his head back onto the pillow. He was lucid now, for the first time in days, but he wasn’t looking forward to going back under that oppressive, all-consuming need again.

“It gets easier,” Gabe said, brushing his hair off his forehead with a grin. “Trust me, niño, been doing this for years.”

Jesse smiled shakily, closing his eyes with a sigh as Gabe continued to run his fingers through his hair. His scalp felt itchy and dirty, his hair had to have been greasy and disgusting by now, but still Gabe hummed and brushed through it. The treatment was soothing. Jesse felt his breathing deepen, his heart rate slowed, and he slept again.

 

When he next woke it was dark. The lights were off and the dim light of the moon crept through the window. Jesse sighed and stretched, feeling relatively fresh for once. He dragged his hands through his hair and over his face and was surprised to feel how clean he was. Gabe must have washed him in his sleep. The act seemed far more intimate than anything Gabe had done to him so far, and Jesse flushed delicately. He buried his smile in his pillow and tried to roll and change positions, but found himself stuck fast by a dark arm thrown over his stomach. Gabe was a large, snoring mass pressed against his back and hips, their legs entwined beneath a clean sheet, and Jesse didn’t even mind that they were naked. He enjoyed the warmth at his back, the breaths stirring the hair at the base of his neck, and even the heavy arm holding his body tight.

Jesse was dismayed to feel more wet warmth oozing from between his legs, but the neediness was lesser than before. He was content to lay there and let Gabe’s breaths rock him as his barrel chest expanded and retracted. He was warm, he was content, and most importantly of all he was safe. He closed his eyes and focused on matching his breathing with Gabe’s.

 


	4. Cucarachas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sunk deeper into the water with a sigh as soon as Gabe was gone. He ran his hands through his hair and rested his head on the lip of the tub. He’d never had a bath before, not since he was a baby, he figured, when his mama still took care of him. Only quick washes in Deadlock, fast so no one would look at him too long in the communal showers. They’d done their share of looking all the same. But Jesse had Gabe now, had Blackwatch. He was safe.

Now that Jesse was...available, too many eyes followed him. It rankled Reyes to no end. He sent his own looks, delivered scorching reprimands, but it never seemed to be enough. Jesse was off limits in every way that mattered, and Reyes might be able to protect him inside Blackwatch, but when he was alone, when Reyes was away on missions, that was something else entirely. Jesse had to deal with Overwatch personnel directly, and that didn’t help maintain Jesse's low profile.

"Who is he?" Morrison growled as he sidled up to Reyes's side on the range. Jesse, in second-hand Blackwatch gear, was on the range with a few other agents tearing holes through paper targets faster than the machine could replace them. Reyes and Morrison were in the viewing booth, safe from prying eyes and stray bullets, and no one could see the way the two of them were practically bristling out of their uniforms, the confined space not nearly large enough for their combined, frustrated anger. Reyes only grunted in reply. Morrison already knew, he just wanted to badger it out of Reyes, get him to talk, get him to admit he'd disobeyed orders.

"It's that fucking kid, isn't he? Deadlock? He's too young for range clearance, not to mention he's still not a member of Blackwatch _or_ Overwatch."

Reyes shrugged.

"If this is some sort of...some sort of omega thing it needs to be stopped."

"Omega thing?" Reyes parroted, crossing his arms and turning to face Morrison completely.

"I don't know if you think of him as your child but he's not, Gabriel."

"O-ho?" Reyes chuckled out a breath, "that what you think?" He leaned forward, leaving barely an inch between their faces. "You don't fuck your kids, cabron. So no, don't think I'd consider him my child."

Morrison recoiled in shock—disgust—just as Reyes knew he would. Shiny blond alpha boy was raised traditional, such things must've been too much for him to think of.

"He's...he's still a fucking kid, Gabe! What were you thinking?!"

"Old enough," Reyes groused. He didn't want to say more. Jesse's heat was his—their—business. Morrison didn't need to know more than necessary. "It's an _omega thing_ , you wouldn't understand," he sneered.

Morrison swore and swept his gaze to the range. He stayed quiet for a few minutes more, tracking Jesse's shots and only Jesse's, before he sighed and pushed his way past to the door.

"At least get him on some suppressants, I can smell him from here."

Reyes watched him leave, watched him keep an eye on Jesse as long as he could, and then he was gone.

 

 

"So we heard your mama was a regular working girl."

Jesse stiffened in his seat, but otherwise kept eating, keeping an eye on his food and the figures slowly surrounding his table. Overwatch recruits. Young, maybe about his age, maybe a little older. They looked soft. Politicians' sons.

"Yeah, had quite the work ethic," another sneered, heavy insinuation in his nasally tone. Jesse put down his fork and picked up his mug. The coffee inside was too hot to drink.

It was usually when Reyes was gone on assignments that the cockroaches spilled out of every corner, with their jeers and knowing glances.

"See, what we were wondering was if the son inherited the mother's, uh, workplace skills. Know what I'm getting at, mutt?"

Jesse raised his eyes, for the first time making out his harassers properly. Two pimply boys, one stouter than the other. Reyes's regimen would've melted off that baby fat in two weeks flat. Seemed Overwatch was a little...softer. There was a third, a shaky, coltish looking kid who was acting as lookout, poorly. They chose the wrong venue for their harassment. This time of night the mess was full of Blackwatch agents, not Overwatch. Their mistake. The other Blackwatch personnel were watching in their subtle way from their respective tables, unwilling to leap to Jesse's aid, but he knew they'd be there to back him up if things went sour.

"I do," Jesse breathed, "I can show you, if you like." He smiled easily as he made a show of leaning back in his seat, moving his head to one side to expose his neck through his too-long hair. He knew alpha punks like them liked that sort of shit, and they were eating it up, drinking in every inch of flesh Jesse bared. The two in front of him edged closer, and Jesse urged them on with low crooning words that didn't mean anything. He exuded softness, warmth, welcome. Reyes had taught him this. Had shown him. It had been nearly half a year since his first heat and he had a few more since then. Reyes taught him much in the meantime, he knew how to turn his soft nature into a weapon.

When the taller kid was finally close enough, Jesse threw the contents of his mug in his face. The kid howled, rearing back with a scalded red face. Shortstop looked dumbly from his buddy back to Jesse, who was already in motion. He swept from his seat and planted a knee in the other boy's crotch, using his momentum and the other's girth to carry them both to the floor. Jesse straddled the stunned boy's hips, a mockery of intimacy, and coolly drew his piece from his waistband. Reyes made him carry it, and now he was glad for it.

"Now," Jesse drawled, "I don't mind much what you say about me. Call me a whore, whatever you want," he leaned forward, flicked off the safety and pulled the hammer, "but you leave my mama out of it," he hissed. The other boy might've said something, a stammered agreement, a curse, a plea, but it was drowned out by Jesse punching three lead-filled holes in the floor around his head.

There was some shouting and scuffling, Jesse was hauled up and dragged off, his arm was bent wrong but he was too drunk off satisfaction to protest. Gun smoke filled his nose and his head. He wound up in a hole for three days until he woke up to Reyes standing above him, frowning with his arms crossed.

"This what you get up to every time I'm gone?" He groused, not sounding particularly angry.

"Just about," Jesse rasped. Reyes rolled his eyes and pulled Jesse to his feet and out the door.

 

 

They walked the familiar route to Reyes's office in silence. He waited until they’d gone far enough, then he rounded on Jesse with a snarl, easily overpowering him to drag him into an unused office. He shoved Jesse into the door and pinned him there, arm barred over his chest.

“Did they fucking touch you?” He growled in Jesse’s face, moving to nose over the younger’s nape and the softness behind his ear, forcefully scenting him.

“No,” Jesse whined, stretching as far as possible to let him in, pulling Reyes in with his scent, his body language. “They wanted to.”

“Never,” Reyes growled, biting over the creamy young flesh before him, worrying the long column of Jesse’s neck insistently with his teeth, grinding the skin until Jesse cried out, high and sweet. Hot blood spilled into his mouth.

“Never,” Reyes repeated, and Jesse nodded frantically, breathless and weepy. Reyes yanked Jesse’s bandana out of his pocket and wrapped it around his neck, hiding the mark, the blood, and pulled Jesse out into the hall. They resumed their trek to Reyes’s quarters, steps quicker and staggered. Jesse tripped over his sluggish feet, he was panting against Reyes’s neck by the time they made it to the east wing.

“I’m—” he gasped, clenching his legs together when they stopped by Reyes’s door, “something’s…”

Reyes could feel the heat roiling off him in waves, could smell his slick and sweat, sweeter and thicker than before.

“You’re a week early, think I triggered it,” Reyes grunted as he shouldered the door open, catching a groaning Jesse before he collapsed. He couldn’t help swelling with pride as he dumped Jesse on the bed. He did that. He triggered Jesse’s heat a full week early. _He_ did, not some knothead alpha.

Jesse was watching him from the bed, coiled in the sheets, sweaty and red and wild. Reyes bared his teeth in a snarling grin and Jesse shrunk back, crawling away with ragged and rasped whines.

“Are you ready for me, baby boy?” Reyes growled and Jesse’s eyes rolled back at the sound, shuddering and weak to Reyes’s touch. The crotch of his regulation fatigues was dark with slick and they clung to his thighs as Reyes pulled them down. His boxers were soaked and required more work, but soon Jesse’s sex was bared to the cool air of the room, wet and already swollen, open and ready.

Reyes moaned and pushed Jesse’s thighs apart. The younger omega went easily, stretching and keening as Reyes didn’t hesitate to touch. All of this, for him, for Reyes. No alpha had this before him, and wouldn’t if he could help it.

He skipped over Jesse’s filling cock, intent instead on that secondary opening below it, pink and swollen and soft. Jesse’s most delicate place, bared only for him, wet only for him.

“O-oh…” Jesse sighed as Reyes prodded around it, spreading his heady, sweet slick back and forth between his cock and opening, teasing with the barest pressure, dipping just the tip of his finger into the wet heat. He relished Jesse’s soft cries, his begging, teary voice as he pleaded for him.

“You’re so pretty, baby boy,” Reyes crooned. Jesse sobbed when the older man spread him open with his thumbs, exposing his delicate, rosy insides to the warming air. Reyes ducked his head and gave Jesse’s cock a light kiss, pulling back before Jesse could buck into the slight contact. He dragged his chin through Jesse’s wetness, lingering over his opening, relishing the younger’s tortured cries. He licked a broad swathe over the opening, playing with Jesse’s asshole at the same time. Jesse was sobbing by the time Reyes dipped his tongue into his opening, dragging in and over his sex with practiced, deft strokes. He quickly added fingers, impatiently pumping and scissoring and Jesse strained to rock his hips in time, his body trying its best to suck his fingers in deeper, walls trembling and clenching maddeningly around him.

Reyes hooked his fingers and pushed up, dragging over the walls with cruel, hard pressure with insistent jabs as he sucked Jesse’s cock down. Jesse howled and bucked, hips hunching as he gushed weakly, then came in Reyes’s mouth. Jesse choked, fighting to breathe through the double stimulation as he sucked in deep gasps, sobbing in pleasure.

Later, when Reyes came inside him and pulled out with a hiss, Jesse breathed softly and trailed his fingertips through the mess of cum and slick around his opening, pushing the pearly liquid back inside almost absently with weak pushes of his twitching fingers. It looked near pure-white against the deep red of Jesse’s abused opening that contracted and seeped through aftershocks.

“That’s not gonna work, baby,” Reyes murmured as he brushed the hair from his boy’s face, curled and sweaty but still so soft and healthy and worlds away from that first night in Blackwatch’s holding cells. Jesse closed his eyes and sighed, his fingers dropping away as he passed out with his legs still spread. Reyes watched him sleep for a few minutes before he stood, straightening Jesse’s legs as he went. He walked to the bathroom and shut the door, resting his head on the cold metal. He thumped his fist beside his face and closed his eyes. He felt a muscle tick in his jaw and he pulled away before he…punched the door or something.

He ran his hands over his face and grabbed a wash cloth, wetting it and returning to Jesse’s side to clean away the sweat and cum and still oozing slick. He smelled so _sweet_ and _good_ …He held his hand over his mouth and returned to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and pressed the cloth to his face, inhaling.

 

 

Jesse sat slumped on the toilet seat in a towel as he watched Gabe fill the tub. He smiled and tilted his head, still sluggish and lazy from earlier—Gabe had used the toy again, pumped it up as large as it could go and held him face-down to fuck him with it—and he had to rely on Gabe to even move around or his legs would give out beneath him. He closed his eyes as Gabe filled the water with a light smelling oil that cleared away the cloying sweetness of their combined scents.

Gabe unwrapped him from his towel almost reverently and lifted him, slowly dipping him into the water. He groaned as the hot water lapped at his sore legs, enveloping him in soothing warmth and he was soon numb with heat and pleasure. Gabe tipped his head back and poured water through his hair, massaging shampoo into his scalp, fingernails raking gently through his loose curls, clearing out the sweat and oil from the day and their sex. Gabe finished up on his hair with conditioner then moved to his body, massaging over his neck and shoulders, hands dipping to his chest to cup his meager pecs. They were growing under Gabe’s cruel regimen, he was gaining muscle mass throughout his whole body but he knew he still had a long way to go. He compared himself to Gabe sometimes as he watched him in the showers.

Gabe was huge—especially so for an omega, Jesse learned—and Jesse wasn’t sure he’d ever gain that muscle. He’d talked to Gabe about it once before and the man had smiled absently, fluffing his hair. He told him, not unkindly, that Jesse would never have the same sort of body as Gabe’s. Jesse frowned at first, confused, and Gabe had laughed it off and told him about body types, nutrition, lots of things Jesse hadn’t accounted for. He put it out of his mind, for now.

Jesse shifted when Gabe squeezed his chest and lightly plucked his dusky nipples. He moaned when they grew hard and peaked under the attention. Gabe hummed and ducked his head, taking one in his mouth. Jesse gasped in surprise and his head fell back against the wall as Gabe suckled and worried at the nipple with his teeth. He bit a shade too hard and Jesse moaned raggedly, pushing him away but he was still so, so weak from sex and the warmth of the bath. But Gabe took pity on him, for now, pulling back and licking his lips.

“These are still small, but they’ll grow, don’t you worry,” Gabe murmured, squeezing his pecs one last time with such casual ownership Jesse shivered. Gabe’s hand dipped lower, between his legs, below his cock to rub over his swollen entrance. Jesse jerked away with a cry but Gabe shushed him, pressing him back into the water and his hand returned. His fingers gently pressed into his opening, the rush of water was almost too much against his insides, but he knew being clean would feel infinitely better later than leaving old slick and cum inside.

He remembered how Gabe had looked when he pushed the man’s cum back inside him when they finished, what he said. He blushed and watched the wall instead of Gabe’s hands as he continued cleaning him. He didn’t know why he did it, but Gabe seemed to know. Gabe kissed his forehead and stood, promising to return soon with food and water. Jesse smiled up at him as he left.

He sunk deeper into the water with a sigh as soon as Gabe was gone. He ran his hands through his hair and rested his head on the lip of the tub. He’d never had a bath before, not since he was a baby, he figured, when his mama still took care of him. Only quick washes in Deadlock, fast so no one would look at him too long in the communal showers. They’d done their share of looking all the same. But Jesse had Gabe now, had Blackwatch. He was safe.

He rested his hand on his belly and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, buttercup, it's all downhill from here.


	5. What's Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Jesse started on suppressants his heats would stop, yes, but everything that made Jesse perfect would stop too. His scent, his wildness, his neediness, his intense desire to please and obey Reyes in all things. Jesse’s entire personality would change, and Reyes…
> 
> Reyes was scared of what he would become.

Jesse's induction into Blackwatch came and went with little fanfare, as did his first mission, his second, his third, and soon Jesse was dug in like a tick, part of the Blackwatch familia for good. He'd been on for about 5 years now and he was unstoppable.

“You taste like cake and booze,” Reyes grumbled and Jesse laughed, rolling upright to tug his socks on. He hobbled to the bathroom humming a birthday song to himself and Reyes watched him as he went. Tight ass, lean muscle and fine-tuned strength, deceptively lithe—Reyes had first hand experience with how strong he was—and everything alphas drooled over. Reyes scowled.

They'd started having sex outside of their heats, and Jesse’s sex drive practically doubled as a result. He was a lewd, flirty omega when he wanted to be, extremely demanding and pushy. Not that Reyes minded, except for these instances where the kid had a little too much alcohol in him.

“I mighta missed the toilet a bit, jefe,” Jesse purred as he returned to settle in Reyes’s lap.

“That's sexy,” Reyes drawled and Jesse threw his head back and laughed. He was loose and easy after a night of drinking and partying, and Reyes wondered, not for the first time, what Jesse would've done if Reyes was away on an op. His mind wandered as Jesse writhed in his lap, making sweet noises, talking sweet words, moans hitched and rasping when Reyes’s fingers found his tight little opening. Jesse giggled—honest to God _giggled_ —when Reyes shoved his fingers inside a hair too rough, not like Jesse seemed to care at all.

He didn't know Jesse to be unfaithful, if what they had was a relationship, but he kept thinking about him doing this with someone else. Jesse’s too-long hair fell in waves over his face as he hunched and whimpered, and Reyes tried to imagine him acting the same if anyone else had their fingers up his opening, jabbing the walls and earning spurts of slick for their effort. He scowled and hooked his fingers, hard, and Jesse's breath came out in a startled gush. The kid blindly groped at Reyes’s shoulders and he shrugged him off, turning to dump him on the bed.

“Gabe,” Jesse spoke, not quite a warning, not there yet, and Reyes hiked his legs up and spread his thighs wide. Jesse swallowed and looked away as Reyes perused him, gaze slowly dragging over his peaked nipples, twitching abs, down to his half-hard little cock and glistening opening. He hooked his thumbs inside those slippery pink walls and pulled him wide. Jesse shrieked and his heels dug into Reyes’s back, but he didn't move to stop him, not yet.

“Mother fuck…” Jesse gaped at the ceiling, breaking off words before they even formed as Reyes dove in to sample his treat, licking and sucking inside the gape of his opening, tongue pressing at the tender muscle. Each jab earned him a breathy cry from Jesse, thighs jerking beside his head. He'd trained Jesse to cum from just this, having his little pussy played with gently or roughly, and Reyes boldly dragged his teeth over the stretched muscle, as a test.

Jesse shivered all over and made a sound close to a sob, breaths coming quick and shallow as he writhed and thumped his head on the pillow. Reyes bit down, gently but abruptly, and Jesse cried out and pulled his hips away, bunching up by the headboard.

“Knock it off!” He hissed, baring his teeth. Reyes grinned.

“As if you don't like it, kitten,” Reyes challenged. Jesse narrowed his eyes and crawled off the bed.

“What, am I wrong?” He continued, grabbing Jesse's arm before he could start redressing.

“I don't like that kinda shit _all_ the time,” Jesse snapped, yanking his arm away.

“Okay, okay, you're right, I'm sorry,” Reyes sighed, pulling Jesse back to the bed and rubbing his arms. “Just got too into it, being your birthday and all.”

Jesse sighed and smiled crooked, leaning his head on Reyes’s shoulder.

“Thanks jefe. I ‘preciate the enthusiasm,” he said, voice a thick rumble—when had his voice changed? Reyes couldn't remember—“but let's take it a little slow tonight.”

Jesse pushed Reyes down on the bed and straddled him. He leaned down to nuzzle against his neck and chest and grabbed handfuls of Reyes’s pecs for support.

“Show me you love me tonight. Gimme my present,” Jesse murmured in his ear as he rolled his hips over his cock, soaking the hard flesh with his slick. “Lemme ride you real slow like I like. You hold real still now, don't move.”

Reyes groaned and held tight to Jesse’s hips as he sunk down on his cock with a sigh.

“Jus’ like this,” Jesse slurred with half-lidded eyes, “real slow, real smooth.” He rolled his hips to an unheard beat on Reyes’s lap, insides squeezing and releasing in a tantalizing rhythm that left the older man breathless.

“That's it,” Jesse whispered on a sigh as Reyes couldn't hold back a moan, “let me hear it. Show your baby boy how much you love him.”

“Fuck,” Reyes hissed when Jesse twisted his hips just right. Jesse laughed breathily and kissed him, lips so soft and smooth and wonderful, sweetness of icing and bitterness of beer battling over his natural taste in Reyes’s mouth. All for him. All for him.

 

Problem was, Jesse was too damn wild. Once he came into his own he developed a mean streak a mile wide. He was too damn cocky for his own good and took criticism poorly. Reyes was the only one he listened to, and Reyes was the one who had to listen to complaints of Jesse’s behavior.

“He's not on suppressants, is he?” Morrison demanded in greeting as he barged into Reyes’s office. Reyes only sighed and rubbed over his face.

“So he's not? This whole damn time? It's been years, Gabe!” Morrison frowned. “No wonder he's been running around like he's got a stick of lit dynamite up his ass.”

Reyes couldn't help but chuckle. Morrison wasn't as amused.

“Look, I'll be as gentle about this as I can,” he said, squaring his stance. “I know you have a _thing_ going on with him but it's in his best interest to get on suppressants soon.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Morrison repeated, looking a little scandalized. “You know damn well why. What happens if his heat is triggered mid-op? What happens if an enemy alpha gentles him, then kills him? What then? Are you gonna hold yourself responsible for it just because you want in the kid’s pants?”

“His heats are regular now. He was off when he first started but he's _fine_ now,” Reyes defended.

“Why this resistance?” Morrison demanded.

Reyes glared at him, tight-lipped. If Jesse started on suppressants his heats would stop, yes, but everything that made Jesse _perfect_ would stop too. His scent, his wildness, his neediness, his intense desire to please and obey Reyes in all things. Jesse’s entire personality would change, and Reyes…

Reyes was scared of what he would become.

 

It went over his head in the end. Jesse complained about headaches and cramps for a few days but eventually mellowed out, becoming soft—still deliciously pliant—but frigid. He wouldn't let anything go further than kissing and some heavy petting, and he physically couldn't go farther than that even if he wanted to.

Overwhelmingly positive reports of Jesse’s performance and behavior on the field piled up, but it rankled Reyes to no end. Alphas still looked, and now Jesse didn't do a damn thing to stop them. Before he would get catty and snappish, rude and disrespectful, anything to keep them away.

Now…Now Jesse let them look, bashfully commenting on it but nothing more. They whistled, they undressed him with their eyes, Jesse would blush and look away, and Reyes would send the punching bag against the wall in his fury late at night.

Jesse used to smell sweet and warm. Now he smelled sterile, not much like anything except his surroundings and the people he'd been with. Reyes was almost ashamed of it but he'd kept a pair of soiled boxers from one of Jesse’s heats. He hadn't washed them, and he jerked off alone at night with them pressed to his nose.

Because of the changes to his body under the SEP he didn't need suppressants. So he was alone. Again.

 

Jesse perked up when he saw two new people in the mess that morning. A tall, regal Egyptian woman and a teenage girl that must have been her daughter. Alphas both. Jesse swallowed and picked up his tray, planning on steering clear until he saw Gabe sit next to them. He faltered and bit his lip.

Their relationship was strained at best as of late, and Jesse didn't know what he was doing wrong. Yeah he was on suppressants now, and his libido was practically nonexistent, but he still cared for the older man deeply. Didn't he feel the same? Jesse looked down at his tray. Didn't he…?

“Jessito.”

Jesse jerked upright and looked over. Gabe was smiling, beckoning him over, and Jesse grinned so hard his face hurt as he rushed over.

“Hi Gabe,” he gushed as he sat next to him.

“Hello yourself,” the man chuckled, ruffling his hair. Jesse sighed and relaxed. They were okay. Things would be okay. The woman across from him eyed him carefully, glancing between them before returning to her meal. The teenager stared at him a bit too intensely, Jesse didn't like it, but when he reached for his usual rancor it slipped away, leaving him fuzzy headed and calm.

“Jesse, I want you to meet Ana Amari. She's one hell of a sniper and has joined our Blackwatch branch for a short tour.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Jesse said, ducking his head. She smiled, and before Jesse thought she looked severe but softness crept into her features little by little.

“The pleasure is all mine, McCree,” she spoke, voice like honeyed smoke. “Gabriel has told me of your marksmanship. Perhaps we can compare methods on the practice range.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jesse smiled.

“And this is my daughter, Fareeha.”

“Hello,” Jesse nodded again. Fareeha looked like she was thirteen or fourteen, but she carried a certain sternness about her, much like her mother. She nodded but said nothing, sizing Jesse up from across the table. Jesse cleared his throat and awkwardly picked at his food.

 

Jesse didn't mind taking the suppressants until he failed a mission. It had been his fault. He froze up when an alpha lunged at him and sliced at the back of his neck. It hurt, more than a wound like that should've, and he crumpled to the ground on weak legs as his team scurried around him, attempting to salvage the op. In the end they had to drag him out as they fled to the choppers, his CO screaming in his ear while the medic tried to patch up the still bleeding neck wound. His ears were pounding, he couldn't hear shit, he could only see the man yelling in his face in disgust.

He came in and out of it the flight back to base, hearing and vision still fuzzy and weak. He woke again in the med wing with a heavily bandaged neck and two angry men standing beside his bed.

“One wounded operative shouldn't have cost you the mission,” he heard Gabe defend him.

“He was supposed to be our hitman. The whole damn thing fell apart because of him.”

Jesse tried to speak but his tongue felt like a wad of cotton balls in his mouth. He must've made a noise because Gabe glanced down at him in warning. Jesse wisely stayed silent and looked down instead at Gabe’s hands.

“When you came to me and told me to put a damn _omega_ on my team I thought you were barking mad, Reyes.”

Gabe’s hands clenched.

“Don't get me wrong, his numbers speak for themselves, and you've done one hell of a job raising him, but it's just not working out.”

“ _One_ failed mission.” Gabe rumbled dangerously. “Are you sure that's what this is about?”

“The hell do you mean-”

“McCree has performed above and beyond expectations in every unit I've placed him in. I assign him to you and, suddenly, he's a shit operative? Tell me how that works.”

“If you're implying I'm discriminating you can take it up with higher command,” the CO bristled.

“I _am_ higher command!” Gabe yelled. “I am the closest damn thing you have to a _God_ in this shit hole, and if you have a problem with one of my recruits you will address it directly. Is that understood?”

Jesse let out a wheezed breath and glanced at the other man, who was visibly shrinking in the face of Gabe’s rage.

“I said,” Gabe hissed, crowding into the man’s space, “is that understood?”

“Yessir,” the man murmured, quickly taking his leave.

They waited in tense silence, Gabe still standing in front of the door, larger than life and bristling with finely contained anger. Jesse sucked in a breath and it was as if the spell was broken. Gabe immediately turned and was at his side.

“What the hell happened, kid?” Gabe sighed.

“Fucker got the jump on me,” Jesse rasped, clearing his throat. “Got me real good with a knife, back of my neck. Went down hard. I don't know what happened.”

Gabe retrieved his medical charts from the foot of the bed and flicked through the screen, quickly scanning over the report.

“Fucker nicked your gland.”

“My what?”

“Honestly, Jesse,” Gabe smirked, “all this time and you still don’t know shit about your own damn body.”

“What can I say,” Jesse smiled crookedly back at him, “all I know is what you show me.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Gabe rolled his eyes.

“Omegas have scent glands on certain parts of their bodies,” Gabe started as he sat by Jesse’s side, “the most important one is where the bastard got you. Back of the neck.”

“No wonder you like my neck so much,” Jesse crooned.

“This is serious, Jesse,” Gabe said. “Alphas don't go for that spot. Better to cut you through the jugular and be done with it.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning someone knew you were an omega, suppressants or not, which shouldn't be possible. You don't look the part, and omegas aren't usually in the military.”

“Someone talked.”

“Exactly,” Gabe murmured, looking down at him with fire In his eyes. “We keep this in house until I figure it out.”

“Entendido jefe,” Jesse nodded.

“But whether someone knew or not isn't the problem. The problem’s your suppressants.”

“What about ‘em?”

“If you were off them you would've kept going, fought back. The mission probably could've been salvaged. Omegas on suppressants fall back on instinct too much, it's the drug’s fault.”

“Really?” Jesse raised his eyebrows. That wasn't what the doctor told him. But the doctor was an alpha, Gabe was an omega, he'd know better than anyone.

“It's why you've allowed a lot of alpha attention on yourself lately, too,” Gabe added, sounding more than a little annoyed.

“Shit, Gabe, I-I didn't mean it, honest! I didn't even notice it, I…”

Gabe shushed him and smoothed his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“I forgive you, Jesse. It's not your fault. It's the suppressants.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gabe replied, kissing his forehead. “We’ll have to take you off them as soon as possible for your gland to properly heal. It's for the best.”

“Okay,” Jesse rushed to agree, leaning up into the slight contact and affection. He'd missed it, him, Gabe, being with him intimately. He just hadn't felt up to doing anything with the older omega. With all the alpha attention on him he'd felt himself straying, body opening at the thought of _their_ touch, not Gabe’s, and now he had something to blame. The fucking suppressants had to go.

“I'll stop taking them immediately,” Jesse promised. He felt Gabe’s smile against his temple.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read between the lines.


	6. Falling Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt like he didn’t know who Jesse was anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special long chapter for you guys cuz it's been so long! Hope you enjoy! (As much as you can enjoy what's about to happen....)

“Blackwatch on site,” Jesse spoke into the community channel as soon as he hit the ground. He heard a few groans, a younger Overwatch agent at his front rolled his eyes and muttered to his partner, “not these guys again.”

Jesse didn’t even blink as he moved on, jogging forward with his team to the waypoint. It was a shoddily constructed communications tent with a small medical area in the corner; a heavy-breathing agent lay on the only available cot with a blanket thrown over him, most likely barely offsetting the cold seeping through the tent. Jesse tore his eyes away and stepped up to the CO’s back. The man was bent over an old, traditional map of the surrounding area, hot spots marked with pins and red marker. Old school as hell.

“Blackwatch reinforcements, waiting orders,” Jesse spoke, squaring his shoulders.

“We don't need you,” was his only reply. Jesse shifted and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but-”

“I don't care what Reyes thinks back in his little spy bunker, we don't need reinforcements.”

Jesse eyed the man on the cot, and the others milling around in a general state of despondency and wear.

“If I may speak freely, Commander, sure as shit _looks_ like you need us.”

The CO froze, then turned with a glare and…ah hell, Jesse thought. Of course his voice sounded familiar.

“You,” Morrison seethed, narrowing his eyes.

“Me,” Jesse replied, daring to be a little cheeky.

“I sure as hell don't need backup from the likes of you,” Morrison growled, turning back to the map.

“That would be discrimination, wouldn't it?” Jesse asked loudly, turning a few heads. Morrison cursed and turned back to him with crossed arms.

“Fine. I assume you read the briefing before landfall?”

“Por supuesto,” Jesse replied, elbowing his way past the larger man to view the map. He heard Morrison grumbling at him to speak English as he pinpointed the main area of interest, and the last known whereabouts of the threat.

“Why don't we have a holoscreen in here?” Jesse asked, “how can we be sure this information is the newest we've received? Target’s location may have changed since this last report.”

“Holoscreens can be hacked, paper can't.” Morrison snapped.

“You rely on messenger pigeons, too?” Jesse quipped, leaving the tent. He had all he needed.

“Alpha team, with me. Beta, stay behind, stabilize the wounded and begin evac. We won't be long.”

“Sir!” They replied in unison and left, alpha team behind Jesse as he put up his visor, loading up the map in his HUD as he walked. He sighed and tied up his hair, then started up a light jog. His team was silent behind him, then he heard heavier steps to his left. He turned and Morrison showed up blue on the HUD.

“I'm not letting you carry out _my_ op alone,” he explained, easily keeping pace with Jesse's team. Jesse tapped a button beside the visor and Morrison showed up violet, distinguished from Jesse's team.

“Don't get in my way and that's fine with me.”

Morrison frowned but remained silent. They carried on well into the night. The mistake Morrison’s unit made was by going in fast and loud, Blackwatch favored speed of course, but above all stealth. Slow and smooth, Jesse preferred his ops that way.

He'd changed so much since joining BW. Back in Deadlock, and even a short while after, Jesse had been loud, brash, uncontrollable and unrefined. BW had changed that. Gabe had changed that. His HUD pinged and a red point appeared to his left. He held up two fingers and two of their number split off from the rest, investigating the ping. Jesse heard a soft grunt, then the two returned.

“One hostile, removed.”

Jesse nodded.

It was close to an hour and a half later of silent jogging that they reached their target. The area they'd already traversed had been relatively barren, outcroppings of rock and shrubby undergrowth amidst hard-packed dirt, and the target area was no different. Not much by way of cover. Jesse glanced upward. New moon tonight, a small blessing. It was full dark.

They faced a small warehouse, the only structure still standing in a long-abandoned building operation of some sort. Construction equipment and well-picked-through supplies were scattered around the clearing around the building. His visor picked up easily five or six heat signatures from inside. He noted an open window at the top of the south wall, smoke filtered out and he could faintly hear laughter and thin strains of static-riddled music from a radio. Now was the time.

Jesse held up his fist and dropped to the ground in a crouch, tapping the comm on his ear. Not Morse, too easily distinguishable by the threat, but BW code made in-house that changed frequently. If Jesse had one thing going for him it was a good memory.

Per his instructions, two separate teams of three spread to their sides, flanking the target area. Only Jesse, two remaining BW agents, and Morrison remained.

“When we go in we go in hard and fast,” Jesse murmured to Morrison, unholstering his standard issue and checking the chamber, flicking off the safety.

“No hostages?” Morrison asked.

“Terminate with extreme prejudice.”

Morrison looked like he wanted to argue but Jesse's visor pinged. His team was ready. Jesse removed a grenade from his kit, pulling the pin. He threw it through the open window and waited. He heard the shout before the explosion and he was already moving, running up to the door. He kicked it in and gunned down two hostiles before they could even react, bullets between eyebrows on the dot. Morrison took out another across the room with his heavy pulse rifle, and Jesse scanned for more. Morrison shouted a warning and he lurched backward in time for a heavy axe to bury itself into the wall in front of him. Its wielder snarled in French and left the axe where it was, barreling at Jesse with full speed. Jesse cursed and lifted his gun, but the hostile was faster. He kicked the weapon from Jesse's hand and it skittered under a nearby table covered in the leftovers of a poker game, and Jesse was forced into hand-to-hand.

It wasn't his strongest skill, and he started up a sweat almost instantly as he absorbed blow after blow from the much larger man. The hostile’s nostrils flared, scenting him, and Jesse bristled with anger when the man grinned and licked his lips, wailing on Jesse with more force than before, paying particular attention to his waist and crotch whenever he could squeeze a hit in. Jesse could already hear Gabe yelling in his ear in disappointment. He never worked on improving his stamina, pouring all his effort into his marksmanship, and the downside to that was becoming abundantly clear.

With one final blow Jesse dropped his guard with a cry. He had to, he felt like his bones were about to shatter and each pungent wave of the alpha’s stench was choking him, clogging his brain to the point where he couldn't think past the urge to _run_. A meaty fist connected with his jaw and Jesse was sent sprawling onto the floor, but he didn't stay for long. He was dragged forward by his legs by the hostile with rough jerks, the man cockily purring French at him as he sat heavily on Jesse's knees. Jesse snarled and bucked, punching and clawing as the man tried to press him down, and all the while he wondered what the fuck Morrison was doing.

He managed to tap the right side of his visor before it was knocked away in the scuffle and it beeped shrilly. The rest of the team would reinforce him soon enough. The alpha on him didn't even seem to care, he looked ravenous as he leered in Jesse's face and managed to pin his arms down by the side of his head.

“Morrison!” Jesse finally yelled, “where the fuck are you?”

To his dismay, and his captor’s amusement, he received no reply. The man tore open the front of Jesse's outerwear, tossing the kit and armor to the side as he reached Jesse's tight-fitting undershirt. He pushed it up Jesse's chest and groped his revealed pecs roughly, uncaring and laughing when Jesse screamed indignantly and continued his struggles.

Suddenly there was a rush of sound, an explosion, and then Jesse couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears. The weight on his lower body lifted and he rolled, groaning when something felt off. He felt unbalanced, numb, and the ringing in his ears gave way to a wash of sound and shouting.

“-Cree! McCree, can you hear me?!”

He blinked and lolled his head—when did Smith get inside?—and felt himself being pulled upright. There was more shouting, angry shouting, cussing left and right, and Morrison on the defensive? Jesse frowned and reached up with his left hand to rub his aching head. Or, at least, he tried to. He blinked, tried again, and looked down. It was funny that he hadn't even felt it at first, but now that he saw it, that the adrenaline from the fight had worn down, the pain roared to life like the hottest hellfire. He screamed and fought against Smith’s hold, but the senior agent didn't budge, he was shouting into his comm for emergency evac.

“What the fuck?! _What the fuck?!_ ” Jesse screeched, crying the ugliest he'd ever cried at the pain, at the shock.

“Try not to move, Jesse, we got ya,” Smith soothed. Jesse could only scream and cry with his eyes screwed shut. He didn't want to look at it, he didn't want to see the stump of his arm that lazily dribbled blood past half-cauterized chunks of seared flesh. He could make out pieces of conversation around him but none of it made sense.

“—will hear about this!”

“—get away with—”

“—done—”

He heard shots fired and Smith jerked up, jostling Jesse and the pain flared back to life.

“What in the—”

More shots, and blood rained on Jesse's face as he and Smith went sprawling. Through the haze of pain Jesse saw a hole in Smith’s forehead and the butt of a rifle before it connected with his face, a bright burst of pain, then silence.

 

 

Jesse woke warm and immobile. He struggled and nearly fainted again from dizziness. There were arms wrapped around him and he remembered the French hostile, his stink and possessive hands, and whimpered and strained to see, to get away.

“Stop moving, you've lost a lot of blood. Someone knocked you up pretty good too, you might be concussed.”

Jesse's head lolled back onto the man's shoulder—not the Frenchman, Morrison—and tried to focus past the pain. The warmth was from the biotic field glowing close by, probably the only thing keeping him conscious at this point.

“What,” Jesse stopped to swallow and blink through a dizzying wave of nausea, “what happened?”

“An unexpected wave of backup attacked. I just barely managed to grab you and get out. I’m not sure about the others. You've been out for about a day and a half.”

Morrison’s voice rumbled in his chest, sending soothing vibrations through Jesse’s aching neck and head. He tried to remember. He couldn’t remember much past the French hostile’s attack…an explosion, his…

“My arm,” Jesse moaned, trying to move again. Morrison shushed him and kept him still with too-strong arms. Jesse heaved quickening breaths and sluggishly kicked his legs out, pressing back, trying to free himself, lost in panic. Morrison cursed and pinched the back of his neck. Jesse cried out and went limp, head hanging onto his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Morrison panted, “but you _need_ to stay still.”

Morrison sounded more strained than usual and didn’t let up his hold on Jesse’s glands. The omega whined and shifted, legs falling limp and open and Morrison cleared his throat, pinching harder.

“L-let m’go…” Jesse slurred, barely managing to lift his right hand before it flopped down again.

“No,” Morrison growled, leaning forward, bearing Jesse down so he was nearly bent in half. Jesse wheezed, panicked, when the alpha’s hand shifted to cover his whole neck to hold him down. Morrison was uncomfortably close, touching almost every sensitive point in his body, seemingly unintentionally, and Jesse could feel each warm breath against his cheek.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you’re just…” Morrison broke off with a groan, mouthing at the sweaty skin at Jesse’s hairline.

“Don’t,” Jesse whined.

Morrison licked his neck, biting down with the barest of pressure, then shoved Jesse forward with a shout. He landed on his good side, thankfully, and shuffled away, glancing over his shoulder at Morrison. The man looked half-starved, staring back at Jesse with bared want in his eyes as he held himself back with obvious effort.

“You’re,” Morrison cleared his throat, “your heat is…”

Jesse panted and took stock of his body. Everything he’d attributed to his injury suddenly held new meaning. Short of breath, light-headedness, nausea, higher body temperature…He tried to focus past the bright blooms of pain on his face and from his arm, and he thought it was sweat but he looked and saw his combat uniform stained dark around his crotch.

“F-fuck…” Jesse cried, dropping his head back.

“I’m sorry,” Morrison repeated.

“It’s okay,” Jesse said, pushing as far away from the alpha as he could. “Not your fault.”

“I know,” Morrison growled, mood dropping instantly. “If you were taking suppressants like you were supposed to this wouldn’t have happened.”

Jesse grimaced and hauled himself upright, thankful again for the biotic field keeping him in one piece. But the warmth only compounded the sensations of his heat. He whined and twitched, scooting further back until he was at the far edge of the field’s radius.

“I won't touch you,” Morrison continued, “not unless you want me to.”

Jesse grunted in response and curled up on his good side, cradling his stub tenderly against his stomach. He knew he should be hurting more than this, he should be blacking out from the pain, if not the shock alone, but the field was keeping him grounded, Morrison was keeping him grounded. And he wasn't sure if he should attribute it to his heat-addled brain or not, but Morrison was beginning to smell more enticing, warm…inviting and safe. He looked over at the alpha, who seemed to be keeping himself rooted to the spot through sheer force of will alone, and he wanted. He wanted so badly he couldn't stand it. He groaned and dropped his head to the ground, beating his forehead against the concrete a few times for good measure.

“Stop that,” Morrison growled, and Jesse felt his body lock up of its own accord, growing rigid and still.

“This is why I wanted you on suppressants, no, why you’re _supposed_ to be on suppressants. Accidents happen in the field, your body goes into flux, and it responds to the first thing it can latch onto; behaviors that can be traced back genetically and historically.” Morrison sighed, “you can be a badass omega all you want but at the end of the day we all answer to our biologies.”

Jesse panted shallowly, trying to listen over the pounding of his heartbeat, over-loud in his ears, and he couldn't help his small noises of frustration, of confusion, Morrison all the while holding himself stiff across the room. The silence was deafening. If he focused, Jesse could hear the distant drips of a leak in the far corner of their hideout—wherever they may be, and Jesse could hear Gabe in his ear again, saying…

Fuck but Jesse wanted Gabe so badly. Not even Gabe, as shameful as it was to admit it. He just needed. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was burning him from the inside out. He could feel more wetness oozing from his slit, pooling tacky and warm in his underwear as it seeped through his pants with the rest of it. He lasted about ten minutes before he broke, gasping and knocking his head on the floor.

“I need—”

 “I could—”

They both had spoken simultaneously, and both looked wildly to the other. Jesse was frozen and near-hyperventilating, heartbeat rabbit quick and he was scared, so fucking scared, but he swallowed and waited, mouth dropping open again almost immediately to gasp in deep gulps of air.

“I…I could touch you…if you wanted me to,” Morrison spoke quietly, voice a hoarse rasp that felt like claws dragging over Jesse’s flesh. He shuddered and closed his eyes, head falling back as he heaved through a wave of pure heat and sensation. He hadn't gone this long without contact during a heat in a long time. Gabe was always there with him. His heats were like clockwork, both of theirs were, and for Jesse to have one unplanned, triggered in combat, was startling and new. He swallowed, gripped his stump tight and forced his body to relax.

Morrison stood. Jesse's legs dropped open, a wilting flower.   

 

 

Reyes watched as the transport landed outside the Watchpoint. He clenched his fists as a wave of medical personnel rushed by, swarming the group that exited the tail end as it landed, instantly pressing one of the men down onto a gurney. Jesse. His Jesse.

They rushed away and Reyes watched, taking in what he already knew. Missing arm. Dehydration. Heat fever. He could smell Jesse as they went by, he was like the rotting-sweet stench of old fruit, of old blood and panicked pheromones. He clenched his jaw and looked back to the transport. One medic stayed behind to check over Morrison, who tiredly kept waving him away, eyes only on Reyes. The medic finally left, and Morrison and Reyes were alone on the Tarmac.

Reyes strode forward the thirty yards or so to the transport and stopped in front of Morrison, chest heaving. Before he could stop himself he punched the blond man in the face, satisfied when he dropped with a muffled, short shout of pain.

“Two goddamn days,” Reyes hissed. “You let my boy get hurt then squat around for two _goddamn_ days.”

“We had no means of communication,” was all Morrison said, standing and wiping his lip. The smear of red on his face wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

“Bullshit,” Reyes growled. “As soon as he hit his heat, hell, as soon as he lost his fucking arm you should've punched that emergency evac command.”

“It was under control.”

“Under control?” Reyes spoke, incredulous. He laughed quickly, knowing he was beginning to sound unhinged but he couldn't hold himself back.

“They're rushing Jesse to the ER because his system’s going into shock. He's got prolonged heat symptoms, he's dangerously dehydrated, and, oh, not to mention his _fucking_ _arm_!”

Morrison looked only a little cowed and Reyes shoved him away, stalking back to the base to track down Jesse’s physician. He needed Jesse awake. He needed to know what happened immediately.

 

 

Genji Shimada had decided that the corner of the ER he was stuck in should just be dedicated to him. For such a large base of operations the ER had quick turnaround, leaving Genji alone on his bed, in his corner, for longer than he'd like. Angela told him he was in the final stages of his recovery, but it involved a lot of messy—embarrassing—dealings with his stomach and bladder. His problem was that he liked to think he was still fully human. He ate and drank too much, and he obviously paid the price for it. He couldn't get over his love for simple pleasures.

He was interrupted from his fun days of staring at the ceiling when someone new was brought in. Genji didn't have the best sense of smell anymore, but it would be impossible not to pick up on the oversaturated stink of overripe omega, unwashed and frightened.

Angela was involved with the new arrival’s recovery, spending her time between he and Genji, and he was incredibly grateful the day they washed the new arrival. The cloying heat-scent tickled at his nose for a while after but was soon replaced with sterile cleanliness and the soothing balm of Angela’s perfume. It cut through the antiseptic and metal stink of the ER perfectly.

For reasons he didn't know, the new arrival was kept unconscious. A man dropped by a few times every day. He grilled Angela for updates, condition changes, anything under the sun. Perhaps the two were involved? It would explain the man’s fixation on the new arrival. He'd asked Angela but she patiently told him that it was on a need-to-know basis. He scoffed but continued to lay there and fester, his curiosity growing out of control.

Only a thin curtain separated his area and the new arrival’s, so he was the first to know when the man woke. The heart monitor bleeped shrilly then settled, and Genji heard rustling, confused whimpers, and he craned his neck to try and see anything through the curtain. Nothing but illegible blobs of silhouettes.

“I-is anyone there?” He heard the man rasp, “I don't know where…what's going on…”

“You're safe,” Genji dared to speak, pitching his voice as soothing as it could be. “You're in an Overwatch base, in the ER. You're okay.”

“My a-arm…”

Genji went to speak again but Angela and the new arrival’s visitor burst through the door.

“Jesse!” The visitor cried, rushing to the man's bedside. Angela calmly pushed her way forward to examine the patient, Jesse.

“Gabe,” Jesse whimpered, and Genji could just make out the two of them embracing, speaking softly and barely moving from the other’s touch.

“You are very lucky, Mr. McCree,” Angela spoke crisply, “if Commander Morrison had not been there to alleviate your symptoms you might not have survived.”

“And just how did he _alleviate_ —”

“An experimental, portable biotic field, Commander Reyes,” Angela interrupted. Reyes, Genji noted. The infamous Blackwatch Commander, reduced to desperation over a…a single male omega. Interesting.

“Your arm should be fitted for a prosthetic soon,” Angela continued. “It won't be much, Blackwatch’s coverage will only go so far but I'll see what I can do about that.”

Genji heard Jesse mumble something and Angela laughed softly, suddenly tugging the curtain aside. Genji jerked up to his elbows, startled to be under such scrutiny.

“It must have been Genji, no?” Angela smiled. “You spoke to Jesse when he woke?”

“Ah, yes,” Genji replied, pulling himself upright. Commander Reyes regarded him coolly, swiftly taking in his appearance but saying nothing. Genji turned and finally got a look at his roommate. Soft brown hair and eyes, honeyed skin still smooth from youth, though marred by dark bags and a few cuts and residual bruising. He appeared particularly muscular for an omega, but Genji wasn't surprised. Blackwatch took a special sort, if he was indeed one of Commander Reyes’s subordinates.

“Hey,” Jesse greeted faintly, his smile lopsided like an automatic response that took a bit too much energy to accomplish fully.

“Yo,” Genji greeted back.

 

 

Genji and Jesse became fast friends. They were practically forced into it; they occupied the same space for about a month while Jesse recovered, then the omega liked to spend his afternoons at Genji’s bedside, running field reports by him.

“Should this be a plural or…?” Jesse mumbled, squinting at his comm pad.

“Yes, plural,” Genji smiled, finding he enjoyed watching Jesse focused on work, on anything really. He had a purity about him, a sort of naïve air that wouldn’t seem possible in a seasoned Blackwatch agent such as he.

They bonded over their wounds, their scars—physical and not—and their insecurities. Jesse’s ran deeper than Genji would have anticipated. They were on a rare outing together; the head physician allowed them some air and they made their way to the roof of the Watchpoint, overlooking the sea.

“…you’re an omega, right?”

“Was,” Genji chuckled, synthesized voice tinny. Angela insisted he wear his mask if he was outdoors. “Gets a little difficult to categorize me, now that most of what's left of me is up here.” He tapped his metal visor and Jesse nodded, looking back to the horizon.

“But you were. You know what it's like.”

“Yes.”

Jesse bit his lip, a habit Genji liked to watch.

“Say…Say I had some questions.”

“About?”

Jesse licked his lips.

“Everything.”

Genji threw his head back and laughed, Jesse fiddled with the hem of his Blackwatch hoodie, and Genji’s mirth petered out quickly.

“W-wait, you're serious?”

Jesse nodded.

“Shit.”

 

 

Reyes knew there was something wrong with Jesse. He was withdrawn, quiet, unusually distant even on ops—Reyes had to bark in his ear a few times to get him moving—and Reyes often caught him staring into space, rubbing behind his neck. He had a scar from the attack a few ops ago, right over his major gland, but the omega physician assured him that it would not affect Jesse’s hormones or behavior.

The last time they tried anything intimate left Jesse crying into the sheets with Reyes sitting beside him, confused and alarmed when the younger omega flinched away from his touch, but so obviously yearned for contact.

“I’m sorry, Gabe, I’m so sorry,” Jesse sobbed, rocking in place as he twisted the sheets around him, covering his face. Reyes frowned and rubbed the young man’s back, murmuring soothing words of encouragement, mind racing all the while.

Jesse still hadn’t been fitted for a prosthetic, so he remained on base, grounded and bored. Reyes tried to fill his days with research and ops related support but it obviously wasn’t enough. Jesse was wilting day by day. Reyes could feel the rift between them grow with each passing moment, each word unsaid, every aborted touch.

Jesse spent a large amount of his time around Genji Shimada, Overwatch’s pet project that would apparently be joining Blackwatch once his recovery period was over. Overwatch went over Reyes’s head often, this was no exception, but the mysteriousness of the man’s circumstances tugged at the back of Reyes’s mind, and he couldn’t help but be jealous of the way Jesse clearly favored the other omega’s attention over Reyes’s. He tried to rationalize it. Jesse was still young, they were similar in age, they were merely forming a friendship, that’s all…

And Jack. Fucking Morrison. He avoided Jesse before but now he treated him like he was the bearer of death itself. If Morrison knew Jesse was going to be in a training session he never showed, if he knew Jesse was going to be in the mess hall at a given time he would go out of his way to avoid it—Reyes knew, he’d studied Morrison’s schedule to make sure he wasn’t just imagining it—and the one time the two accidentally met in the hallway Jesse stammered out a quick excuse to leave, looking green and fidgeting like mad. Reyes had watched him leave, then glanced to Morrison. The blond alpha was watching him leave as well, concern evident on his perfectly chiseled face (god but Reyes really wanted to punch it out of alignment).

He didn’t bring it up with Jesse, he knew better, but his concern continued to grow until it was a dark, festering thing hanging between them. He felt like he didn’t know who Jesse was anymore.

 


	7. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are responsible for Jesse's condition."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very rough chapter, in more ways than one. Please read with caution. Jesse has an episode where he thinks about what happened to him and becomes somewhat self-destructive.

_“I…I could touch you…if you wanted me to.”_

Jesse hung his head in the shower and stood there, letting the scalding water beat down onto his body, so hot it set him itching and bright red.

_Morrison stood. Jesse's legs dropped open, a wilting flower._

He knocked his head against the cold tiled wall, again and again.

_Jesse couldn't breathe when Morrison settled over him, pressing him into the ground. He was so heavy. He was so big. As big as Gabe but his entire presence and scent made him seem a thousand pounds heavier._

Jesse cried and his tears mixed with the hot water pooling beneath him.

_“Don't worry,” Morrison soothed when Jesse whimpered and cried, shifting as if to scramble his way free. Out and away from the smell, the pheromones drugging him silly._

_“I won't hurt you.”_

Jesse sunk to the bottom of the shower and buried his face in his knees, hugging them close to his chest with his one arm. One arm.

_“Careful,” Morrison breathed against his neck when Jesse struggled, batting at the man's head with his ruined arm. “Don't hurt it more. Please don't…”_

Jesse was freely crying, huge ugly sobs pulled deep from his gut.

_Jesse panted and moaned when Morrison finally sunk inside him, soft cries punched from him with every thrust and goddammit but Morrison was being so fucking gentle._

Jesse could barely breathe through the heat. He was suffocating.

_He was sobbing when the pain turned to bright bursts of pleasure. Blooms of electric heat shot up his spine, leaving him drooling and speechless as Morrison continued._

“Gabe,” Jesse hiccuped, “Gabe, please…”

_He hadn't known. He'd never known something could feel so good and so right. When Morrison grew inside him and locked them tight he laughed, he felt so complete for the first time in his life._

“I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…”

_Morrison pulled out once his knot wore down. They'd spent about half an hour tied together, and while Morrison was still pumping load after load inside Jesse he made sure the omega wasn't left wanting._

_The alpha collapsed beside him, spent and satisfied, and Jesse reached down to press against his folds, hips jerking he was so sensitive. He dragged his fingers through the mess of cum and slick leaking from him, pushing it back inside—_

Jesse punched the wall and shouted in pain. His knuckles split, blood dripped with the water and he cradled his shaky hand to his chest. He stayed that way until the water turned cold, until Gabe opened the door.

 

 

“You can tell me what happened, you know.”

Jesse blinked and looked over. Genji was sitting beside him. They were back on the roof. The ocean smelled nice.

“What do you mean?” Jesse mumbled.

“Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter,” Genji chuckled. Jesse envied his easy mirth. He looked down to his bandaged knuckles and wished he could pick at it.

“I punched a wall,” Jesse finally answered.

“That's hardly a fair fight. The wall can't defend itself.”

Jesse smiled but didn't look up.

“Why did you punch a wall, Jesse?”

“I was remembering something I…something I didn't like.”

“Something recent?”

“Guess so.”

Genji hummed. He was in a wheel chair today. He'd been sent out on a trial op and he'd “acted brashly,” as Angela put it, and he'd tested the limits of his body and failed. At least he could still wheel himself around, Jesse joked that he'd help but he was short one hand. They'd laughed about it for a little while.

“Does it have anything to do with your scent?”

“My what?”

“You smell different. I don't know. It's subtle but it's there.”

Suddenly Jesse was sweating. He felt caged in even though they had all the air they'd ever need out on the roof.

“I gotta go,” Jesse gushed, staggering awkwardly to his feet.

“W-wait, Jesse? Jesse!”

He didn't listen, he left Genji sitting on the roof as he ran back inside, slamming the door behind him. He scrambled down the stairs and sprinted to his room, locking the door behind him. He wheezed and panted, wildly glancing around the room, checking all the corners and dark spots, then he bolted to the bathroom. He just managed to lift the toilet seat before he gagged and threw up his breakfast. He shuddered and sobbed between dry heaves, cheeks and throat burning, and he slumped against the toilet when he felt like it was finally over.

“What the fuck is wrong with me,” Jesse cried, knocking his forehead against the toilet bowl rim. He flinched upright when someone pounded on his door.

“Jesse? Open up!”

“Leave me alone,” Jesse shouted hoarsely.

“Open up or I'm calling Commander Reyes.”

Jesse wheezed a sob and stood on shaky legs. He staggered to the door and leaned against it.

“Please don't,” he whimpered.

“Open the door then,” Genji replied sternly.

Jesse set his jaw and opened the door a crack. Genji was sitting outside, and though his face wasn't visible he managed to look understandably angry.

“You can't run from a ninja, dude,” he said.

“Sorry,” Jesse sniffed. Genji scoffed and pushed the door open as he wheeled inside. He glanced at the bathroom and cocked his head.

“Did you just puke?”

Jesse collapsed on the bed and hung his head in his hand, shivering all over.

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Jesse shook his head, “or, at least I don't think I am.”

Genji’s considering hum sounded more like an electronic purr as he wheeled to the bed. He took Jesse's hand away from his face and squeezed gently, peeking up between Jesse's haphazard bangs to get a good look at him.

“I'm not stupid,” Genji finally spoke, “I know something is very, very wrong. I've respected your privacy this long, but now I think it's time you told me the truth.”

“What, about this?” Jesse laughed wetly, holding up his busted knuckles, “this just happened, and I told you why.”

“No, Jesse,” Genji sighed, reaching to tuck some of Jesse’s hair behind his ear, “I want you to tell me what happened on your last op, when you lost your arm.”

Jesse went cold and gaped like a fish, instantly looking away from that glowing green visor. He couldn't face Genji with the truth. He couldn't face anyone with the truth.

“Jesse, please,” Genji implored, squeezing his hand, “something is eating you up inside and you need to tell someone.”

“And that's you, huh?” Jesse snapped, ears ringing. “You gonna be my therapist now? Gonna tell me what's what?”

“No,” Genji spoke, clipped but not unfriendly, not rising to Jesse's bait. “But I would like to think I am your friend.”

Jesse heaved a breath through his nose and covered his face again.

“Not yet,” he whispered, “I'm not ready to talk yet.”

Genji sighed, clearly dissatisfied but he didn't push it.

“Whenever you are ready, then, I'll be waiting.”

 

 

Jesse felt like he was floating day to day. He couldn't grasp time as a firm concept; he'd be on the floor in the shower, blink, and be in the mess hall absently spooning mashed potatoes around his tray, hair wet and unkempt but otherwise put together. He was aware he was losing time, in the way a frog was aware it was in a pot of slowly boiling water. Something was wrong but he couldn't find the energy to care.

“Agent.”

Jesse blinked and turned in the hallway. He didn't recognize the door signs and labels around him and he struggled to gain his bearings.

“Agent, are you alright?”

It was the girl that was with Amari, Fareeha. She was shorter than Jesse, but lankier and awkward in that prepubescent way Jesse was all too familiar with.

“I'm-”

“You're in the civilian wing. What are you doing here?”

Jesse frowned, fighting his way through a fog of confusion to find an answer. He didn't know how he got here, that much was certain.

“I'm getting help,” Fareeha said, eyeing Jesse like he was carrying the plague as she edged around him. “Stay here, sit on the floor, don't move.”

Jesse sunk to the floor automatically, breath hitching when he struck the ground. He could vaguely hear the sound of her footsteps as she sprinted down the hall, but he was mostly caught up in a fog, heartbeat pounding in his ears. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing until sound swam into his head, hurried voices and shouting.

“How long-”

“Fever-”

He was lifted to his feet then swept over someone's shoulder, the movement dizzied him and the impact forced him into a dry heaving fit. The person holding him was shushing him, soothingly rubbing his back as they swept through the halls. He couldn't see but he felt like the person’s scent was familiar. Signs passed in a blur, groups of people parted like flocks of startled birds. Jesse could only think about crows swarming a corpse.

 

 

“What happened?”

Reyes hadn't expected to find Jesse back in the medical wing so soon after his initial discharge, and no one was fucking _telling_ him anything.

“Commander, perhaps we should speak outside.”

Captain Amari stood from Jesse’s bedside, and Reyes had to tamp down the urge to demand to stay, to wrap Jesse in his arms and never let him go. He followed Amari outside, and she graciously stopped just outside the observation window.

“Are you familiar with aftershocks?”

“Loosely,” Reyes answered, “is that what's wrong with Jesse?”

“Yes, and no,” Amari frowned, glancing through the window. “I hesitate to divulge the entirety of Jesse's medical issues. You are not next of kin.”

“But he’s my-” Reyes started, scowling and stopping short at her glance.

“Whatever he may be to you, you do not have the right to know.”

He moved to speak again and she held up a hand.

“I can tell you he is exhausted, dehydrated, and in overall poor physical health. The cause for this remains to be seen.”

Reyes dragged a hand over his face, staring through the glass. Jesse looked smaller than usual, dark against the white sheets and pillows he was nestled in, like a stain. His hair was limp and mussed where it was spread around his face like a muddy halo, and dark circles framed his shut eyes, made darker by the fan of his lashes. He looked…dead. If it wasn't for the soft rise and fall of his chest Reyes wouldn't have known any better.

“Please,” he murmured, “just…tell me he's going to be okay.”

Amari regarded him coolly.

“He will be, Commander.”

 

 

Jack waited for Gabriel to leave on assignment. The Blackwatch Commander was hesitant to leave his subordinate’s side, but duty was a binding thing that called and couldn't be ignored. Gabriel stubbornly left, and Jack felt like he could finally breathe. He quickly made his way to the medical wing, keeping his head down, acknowledging those who greeted him but didn't stray for conversation. He stopped short at the door, hand half-raised to the handle, and bit his lip. He entertained the thought of turning away, running until he was on the far side of the Watchpoint and never looking back, but he stayed and waited, taking deep calming breaths before opening the door.

He almost didn't notice the cyborg sitting beside Jesse McCree’s bed. Genji’s lights were dimmed in artificial slumber where he sat slumped against Jesse's bed side. Jack hesitated and half-turned to leave, but stopped short at the small whine from the bed. He turned, achingly slow, as McCree let loose soft noises in his sleep, sounds that tugged at Jack’s heartstrings so insistently he couldn't help but quickly stagger to the bed and cradle the omega’s remaining hand in his—so much smaller, paler than usual and fragile, so goddamn breakable…

“What are you doing here?”

Jack flinched, head snapping up to see the cyborg awake, a glowing, menacing watchdog of sorts.

“I just…”

“You should not be here.”

Genji’s generated voice was clipped and acidic… _angry_.

“I just wanted to…to see him.”

“I am not as intelligent as my brother, I will admit that, but I know enough, I see enough.”

His voice was a low rumble, interspersed with a mechanical thrum that reverberated in the room. Omnipotent.

“You are responsible for Jesse's condition.”

Jack hung his head.

“You are responsible not only for his illness, but his injuries as well.”

Jack clenched his fists.

“I know deception, Jack Morrison. I was raised into it. You are a liar.”

“I'm not a liar!” Jack growled.

“Then tell the truth. Take responsibility for your actions.”

“I didn't do anything!”

“You have fooled them but you will not fool me,” the cyborg countered, voice rising to counter Jack’s indignant rage.

“But I didn't—”

“I know you do not think of Jesse favorably, many do not despite his attempts at proving himself.”

“I don't—”

“How simple it must have been to betray his trust. When did you do it, Commander? Did you wait for him to turn his back or did you have someone—”

“It was an accident!” Jack shouted, gripping the side of McCree’s bed so tightly he could feel the metal straining under his grip. Genji said nothing, staring up at him from his chair, unflappable and indecipherable.

“It was an accident,” Jack repeated softly. “My report was partially true.”

He told everything to Genji, starting from the beginning. His unfair assessment of McCree, his surprise at his capableness, the warehouse, the attack, and the counterattack. The Frenchman that held McCree down while Jack was preoccupied with fighting others off. His mistake…

“I fired my rockets. It was an accident. I'd meant to only empty a few rounds into the hostile to get him off McCree long enough for him to free himself but…I can't explain how it happened. I acted impulsively and…and could only watch as McCree suffered for it.”

He swallowed.

“We thought we were in the clear. The remaining Blackwatch agents were prepping McCree for evac when we were hit with another wave. I only had time to save McCree and run before _none_ of us made it out.”

“How convenient,” Genji started, “that another wave of hostiles appeared as soon as the last were cleared.”

“I can't explain it,” Jack said. The cyborg hummed and looked down at McCree, still sleeping despite the shouting.

“And after,” Genji prompted, sounding almost pained, “when you…”

“I had no other choice,” Jack murmured, also staring at McCree. “He might've been far worse by the time evac arrived if I hadn't intervened.”

“Intervened,” Genji chuckled, or, at least Jack thought it sounded like a chuckle, “is that what you call rape?”

“Now look,” Jack bristled, “I did what I had to—”

“I don't doubt that, Commander,” Genji interrupted. “But you had ample opportunity in the meantime to call for evac. Why did you wait so long?”

Jack set his jaw and stared resolutely at the cyborg’s ambiguous mask, nothing but the beeping of machines filling the room.

“Like I said,” Jack finally spoke, “I did what I had to.”

 

 

Genji watched the alpha leave, taking his oppressive scent and rage with him. Genji might have pressed too hard, he will not see the end of this for some time, but he at last garnered some version of the truth.

“I know you're awake, Jesse,” he murmured, taking in the omega’s guilty flinch. “Please talk to me…”

Jesse didn't open his eyes but he put his arm over his face, biting his lip to hold back his sobs. Genji leaned over him, holding as tightly as he dared, and Jesse's tears soaked into the pillows and his hair as he cried, much like a child.

“I'm sorry, Jesse, I'm so sorry.”

 

 


	8. Transition, and a Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was an odd thing.

The world was a cruel place. If anyone knew that well enough it would be Jesse. He stood in front of the toilet, both hands over his flat, scarred stomach and the gaudy colored metal of his prosthetic clashed with the purples and greens of old bruising and the shiny red of healing scars, still so apparent even after a year. They were discreet, they'd fade in time—little gruesome reminders of what was and had been—but his fingers tapped over the smooth scar tissue and wondered.

“Jesse?”

He looked up at the mirror, at Gabe standing just beyond the door. He'd been respectful as of late, keeping his distance, treating Jesse with care—like a fractured teacup on the edge of breaking altogether—and Jesse couldn't deny he'd enjoyed the space, the tenderness that Gabe so rarely afforded him.

“What is it?”

Gabe floundered, glancing at Jesse's scars in the mirror before his eyes darted back up to his face. Jesse remained impassive, unbreakable, focused.

“It's time to go,” Gabe finally said, standing back from the door as Jesse walked his way, giving him so much space as he passed it was as if any contact would burn him to the bone.

Jesse dressed quickly, buttoning and snapping his regulation uniform with quick, efficient jerks. He placed his hat on his head last—regulation uniform for Blackwatch, not his personal hat—and followed Gabe out the door. They stood together in tense silence in the elevator, waiting as they dipped down each floor.

No stops.

“Jesse,” Gabe spoke, almost too softly to hear over the thrumming of the elevator around them. Jesse inclined his head in Gabe's direction but said nothing.

“Are we…I just want to be certain that we're…”

Jesse sighed through his nose and reached over, wrapping their fingers together in a loose grip, metal and flesh.

“You'll always have me,” was all that Jesse said. It was enough. Gabe nodded and Jesse didn't stare at the wetness around the older man’s eyes, for his sake.

They made their way from the Blackwatch compound in relative silence, Gabe a large but comforting presence—for the first time, in a long time—at his back. A car was waiting for them.

They rode in silence; Jesse stared out the window, Gabe stared at Jesse, and the ride took about twenty minutes but it felt like a lifetime. They arrived at the cemetery at 0800, ahead of the crowd but not ahead of the gloom. The air was close and humid, the sky roiling with thick smoky clouds, and rain seemed a guarantee. Fitting weather for the resounding silence and darkness of mood around them. The Amaris were present, save one, represented in an empty coffin to be lowered beneath the earth, signifying an absence, a loss.

Fareeha was red faced and tearful. She clung to her father’s side and refused to look up from the coffin, even when Jesse stepped close to her other side. Her father glanced his way, red-eyed and exhausted, and nodded. Gabe and Jesse nodded back.

It didn't take long to bury a ghost, and the Amaris left soon after Jesse and Gabe. The weather had held just long enough, but soon the sky cracked open and rained poured down heavy.

Stereotypical. Fitting.

 

  
They made their way back in silence, they wouldn't have been able to hear each other over the rain anyway, and couldn't find it in themselves to rush inside. They walked under the downpour, sedate like a dirge, and no one mentioned it when they made it inside, dripping over the tile and the Blackwatch logo beneath their feet. All in all the trip took about an hour and a half, a blink and you miss it event, and Jesse found himself back in the bathroom in front of the mirror.

Despite his hat his hair was plastered to his forehead, dripping over his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake, cold flesh Gabe caressed and kissed, so hesitant and careful. Jesse took pity on him and turned in his arms, taking his lips softly with his own. It was an unhurried thing, of bitter rain and exhaustion. Raindrops clung to the fringe of Jesse's eyelashes and Gabe brushed them away with his fingertips.

Gabe undressed him carefully, smoothing over his dark, damp skin, fingers finding each new bruise and mark he hadn't seen before, learning them, learning him.

It had been so long since Gabe had dared touch him, and Jesse shuddered as those practiced hands found those familiar places on his body, so easily warming him, preparing him. They swayed and kissed their way to bed—it had been a month now since they'd started sharing a bed again—and Jesse couldn't deny the comfort, the warmth of Gabe's scent all around him, both of theirs in the sheets.

Gabe laid him down gently, removing his remaining clothing and leaving him bared and cold. Jesse balked when he moved to take his prosthetic and Gabe stopped, taking his metal hand and kissing over the fingers instead. He moved lower, lighting Jesse aflame with soft presses of kisses and tongue over his scars. Tears blurred in his eyes and Jesse closed them rather than watch as Gabe traced over the line of scars low on his stomach, still sensitive and new. He moved lower still and pushed Jesse's thighs apart, resting them on his shoulders.

“Gentle, it’s still…”

“I know, baby,” Gabe murmured, carefully spreading him open with his fingertips. Jesse would never get as wet as he used to, no matter how long anyone would work at him. He was physically incapable of a lot of things, now, but Gabe was patient, he was gentle, and he knew what Jesse needed.

“O-oh,” Jesse breathed, undulating softly as Gabe dipped into him with his tongue, working his jaw with slick, lewd precision as he delved into Jesse's deepest, most intimate place. Jesse tensed his thighs around Gabe's head and the man understood, turning and flipping them over so Jesse was straddling his face, grinding down onto him with single-minded intent.

“G-Gabe,” Jesse whined, jerking and tensing as he neared…something. It wasn't anything close to an orgasm, it took a lot more to get him there, but it was a rush nonetheless. Gabe's efforts were rewarded with a small gush of slick.

He quickly replaced his tongue with fingers—still slow, still gentle—that delved deeper than his tongue could, lighting up all those spots inside him that hadn't been touched properly in so long. He was so sensitive, now, like all those years ago when Gabe first took him to bed.

“Do you think you can…?”

“Yes, yes,” Jesse gasped, moving down to straddle Gabe's hips. He wanted this. He wanted Gabe. He was surprised when Gabe reached for the bedside table, pulling a small bottle of lube out of the drawer.

“I thought with, you know…” Gabe trailed off, glancing at Jesse's stomach. Jesse kissed him breathless, guiding the man's fingers down when he was ready, pressing them inside to spread the artificial slick. Jesse was a lot bigger than he used to be, but then again Gabe had always been big; he carried Jesse's weight easily as he teetered on the edge of overstimulation, breathless and ashamedly wanton.

“That's it,” he heard Gabe mutter in his ear, voice tight but still so patient as he opened him up, “you're getting so wet for me, baby.”

Jesse sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut, intent on believing the lie, their sweet pretend that Jesse was normal and healthy. When he felt like he was ready he pushed Gabe's arm, shakily retrieving the bottle of lube. He'd never used anything like it before, never had to, but he squeezed some out on his palm and gripped Gabe’s cock, carefully watching the man's face as he pumped him, covering him in slick. He wiped the excess over his thigh and quickly rose, guiding the head to his opening.

“Take it slow, Jesse,” Gabe warned, gripping his thighs. Jesse nodded and bit his lip, sinking down. There was pain—unavoidable and sharp—and he hissed and paused, hovering and straining over Gabe's thighs before trying again. The second drop was smoother, and he sucked in a breath when he was finally fully seated.

“Jesse,” Gabe moaned, head dropped back on their pillows as he fought to stay still. Jesse could feel every tremble in his strained thighs, in his fingers and hands as he gripped him tight. Jesse closed his eyes and rocked, growing accustomed to the girth inside him again—nothing like that, nothing close, but it was Gabe—as the man beneath him stayed still for him.

They hadn’t tried anything like this in a long time, and Jesse felt it in each strained muscle, unused to the position. But above it all the overwhelming pleasure burst behind his eyelids too bright to ignore. Gabe’s fingers slipped over his hips, in his sweat and leftover slick as Jesse moved, as he found a rhythm that worked well enough to distract him from the pain, working his hips and flexing straining, tired muscles.

His heart throbbed with an indelible ache, but something inside him was cracking and breaking, blossoming open anew.

 

  
Jesse's knowledge of infections was woefully limited. When Captain Amari had carefully taken his hand in hers—just recalling her face was enough to leave Jesse breathless from grief—and explained what had happened…he couldn't remember for the life of him what she'd said. It hadn't been anything complicated, no medical jargon he couldn't have possibly understood. But he knew “infection,” he knew “sterile,” and that was enough.

It was an odd thing. He had never desired children. Until a couple years ago he had no idea it was even possible, but now he could feel the absence inside him like a physical pain. He caught himself staring at adverts and billboards on assignments, staring at the laughing, perfect families he saw in them.

It ached.

 

  
No one could say what happened to Captain Amari. She'd been shot. Sniper from Talon, that they knew, but there had been no body.

 

  
He and Genji stood on the roof, watching the tide ebb and flow far beneath them. Salted wind whipped through Jesse's hair and tousled it askew, but neither made a move to fix it.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, then?” Jesse spoke, a question though he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Genji inclined his head, “the Shambali have given me an opportunity I cannot refuse. There are wounds within me that will not heal on their own.”

Jesse looked at his friend’s hand over his synthetic chest, where his heart would be if he were fully flesh and blood.

“…I wish you’d stay,” Jesse spoke after some silence, nothing between them but the wind.

“I will write to you, when I can manage it,” Genji placated, but his reassurance sounded forced. Jesse turned away, looking once again at the ocean. Genji rested his hand on Jesse’s arm, the one that had been on his heart, and they leaned into the other, two pieces of drift wood held together by salt and sand.

 

  
Along with Gabe's tenderness came paranoia. Jesse couldn't think of a single op he'd been on in the past year where Gabe wasn't present in some way; in person or calm in his ear, directing him from headquarters like Jesse was some sort of green agent in need of guidance.

He didn't confront Gabe about it. He pitied the man. He told Jesse before that he felt ridiculously guilty for what had happened to Captain Amari. Intel was Blackwatch’s front. They should have known about the other sniper. They should have warned her. They could have saved her.

Jesse knew nothing he said would alleviate the man's pain. Gabe knew Amari long before Jesse did. Their friendship was deeper than anything Jesse could boast, even though they'd become close, before the end.

So he let Gabe do what he wanted, and ignored the pulling of instinct in his gut.

The guidance was beginning to feel like surveillance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A transitional chapter. And now the ending begins.


	9. Ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And if I ever catch you looking at me the way you do again, I’ll put a bullet ‘tween your eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters!!!! A lot of real life stuff happened +moved out +no internet but now here we are! Enjoy <3

In Genji's absence there was Fareeha. Amari hadn't exactly allowed her daughter to spend a lot of time around Blackwatch assets, no matter how friendly she was with them when she was living. Jesse believed it stemmed from a place of caution every mother might have for her daughter, a desire to keep her safe and away from harmful influences.

But now that Fareeha was motherless and her father was dedicated to his work she was more or less free to do as she wished. She spent more time outside the Overwatch wing, more time around Jesse.

There was one time—a sore, delicate time, when his innards still throbbed and the gash over his lower stomach was still fresh—that Jesse had snapped. He wasn't her mother, he _couldn't even_ —

And Fareeha, sweet and strong child she was, said nothing of it. Her face grew stern—so much like her mother’s Jesse could barely stand it—and demanded that he be silent, and let his pistol do the talking.

So taught her how to shoot.

He couldn't count her as a friend. Too young, too inexperienced, and nothing of the world he'd found himself embroiled in. She was too good for Blackwatch and he made sure it stayed that way.

 

 

 

Genji's letters were few but cherished all the same. The cyborg spoke of beautiful monasteries, of peaceful, kind people—omnics, but people—and of his teacher. Zenyatta seemed to be the center of Genji's world now, and was doing his best to steer Genji on the path to self-acceptance, and perhaps a future where the cyborg could find peace.

More letters spoke of a brother Jesse knew little about, had heard of in passing but had never pried. Genji took the time now to say his past in inked words that flowed over the paper so smoothly Jesse envied it. But he read and learned, unsurprised at details he'd already known or had assumed, while others left him confused, wondering. But he wouldn't question his friend. Genji was on the path now, and Jesse would do anything to see him through it to the end.

“Jesse.”

He looked up from one of Genji's latest messages, soft smile dropping when he saw Gabe in the doorway.

“What is it?”

“You missed the meeting.”

“Thought it was at one,” Jesse frowned, glancing down at his watch.

“It was at 11, don't bullshit me.”

Jesse put his hand down but didn't look up. Gabe sighed, quick and exasperated, and paced his room.

“You've stopped coming to joint intel meetings.”

“I know the intel, I don't have to go.”

“Whether you know it or not doesn't matter,” Gabe snapped. “You are my second in command. It reflects badly on me when you don't show your face for these meetings.”

“You mean Blackwatch. Reflects badly on Blackwatch.”

Gabe grunted and waved his hand, uncaring of his slip. Jesse sat there and didn't say anything as Gabe silently fumed, then simmered, then eventually groaned and rubbed at his face and shaved head.

“It reflects badly on me because my second in command can't be bothered to stand up with me against Overwatch. Against Jack.”

Jesse closed his eyes and kept his head down.

“He's pushing back with everything he's got. Our operations have become severely limited. Surely you've noticed.”

“I have,” Jesse answered.

“Then why won’t you help me?!” Gabe snarled. “You’re as deep into this as I am. If Blackwatch goes tits up we’re both out of a job, but I won’t be the one heading to prison.”

Jesse bristled, finally meeting Gabe’s fiery gaze.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jesse asked quietly, scowling, “almost that time of the month?”

The other man gaped at him, mouth working like a fish out of water before he found words.

“How _dare_ you—”

Jesse stood to meet Gabe’s anger, matching him inch for inch—and then some—as they stared each other down.

“I’m sick of this bullshit,” Jesse hissed in Gabe’s face, “stop taking your anger out on me. I ain’t your punching bag.”

“Don’t take that tone with me—”

“I’ll take whatever tone I want,” Jesse interrupted, butting closer to exert every bit of height he held over the other man. “See, I thought we was partners in this, but I guess I was mistaken.”

“Cute,” Gabe sneered, “coming from the agent who won’t even show his face in key intel and tasking meetings, who won’t go on missions assigned to him, who turns his comm off when he’s off duty like some fresh-enlisted grunt who doesn’t know better. Don’t talk to me about partnership when you haven’t put in even the slightest bit of effort.”

They panted in each other’s faces, tension thick enough to cut, and one quick flare of Gabe’s nostrils was Jesse’s only warning before he was shoved back. His hips connected hard with his desk and he grunted and righted himself, sending a mean right hook in retaliation. He knew Gabe could’ve easily avoided it, but he took it full force. Jesse wrung his hand out and scrambled out of range, glaring at the other man’s hunched and heaving back.

“That’s the most reaction I’ve gotten out of you in months,” Gabe finally spoke, straightening. He turned, holding a hand over his bleeding nose, looking all the world like he was the one who landed the punch.

“Got that out of your system?”

Jesse’s face twisted into a deep scowl. He pushed his way past the other man and retrieved his comm, the files he was working on, then left.

 

 

 

Jack had grown complacent. He was used to dealing with just Gabe, who was easy enough to speak over in a room of Overwatch supporters. But when he came into the next information debriefing and saw Jesse sitting by the man’s side he almost stumbled over his own two feet.

“Commander,” Jesse nodded, expression and tone like ice.

“Agent,” Jack hurried to reply, seating himself across from the other man. He hadn’t seen Jesse in months, possibly the other man’s doing. He didn’t look all that happy to be there, he could see it in the set of his shoulders, his guarded expression. They’d done a good job avoiding each other as much as was professionally possible, yet here they were, in front of each other again.

“Let’s get started,” Gabe sighed, standing to take control of the presentation equipment.

“But the others haven’t arrived yet,” Jack frowned.

“They won’t be necessary. These briefings have been bumped up in classification, they’re no longer qualified to attend.”

Jack frowned and chewed on his cheek but nodded. Blackwatch always had command of mission classifications, they held all the hot intel, after all. His hands were tied.

Gabe had been in a slump, anyone could see it. Jesse’s absence by his side had been noted, and Jack knew enough to know the connection. But now that Jesse was back, so was Gabe’s drive. He barked out orders and intel in the meeting—and what a farce it was—all the while Jesse’s stare was like ice cubes creeping down his spine. He caught himself in time from sighing audibly once the meeting was done, and he quickly stood and gathered his materials, making for the door.

“Commander,” Jesse’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I’d like to speak to you in private please.”

Jack, dismayed, stopped short of the door and turned, painfully pushing himself to sit back down at the table. Gabe looked between the two of them, confusion—and no small amount of angered paranoia—clear on his features, his guarded stance by Jesse’s side. The lieutenant leaned to the side and spoke softly, too quietly for Jack to make out, but Gabe relaxed, albeit minutely, and left the room.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, on his part unwilling to meet Jesse’s eyes, then the omega leaned forward on the table and spoke.

“We’ve done a good job of ignoring each other. In my case more for Gabe’s benefit than my own.”

Jack didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded. Dumb like a child.

“Look at me.”

God, but that ever-present drawl had a way of worming into the deepest cracks of Jack’s self-control. He forced himself to look up, to meet Jesse’s dirt brown eyes. They were narrowed, shadowed under his heavy brows and hair, made stark by the harsh fluorescent light in the room. He was nothing like he was before the op, before that panicked heat. Now that Jack finally got a look at him he saw all the ways Jesse had filled out since then. He was huge, now, looking nothing like an omega, or even a beta. He rivaled Gabe in size, and Jack could confidently guess Jesse might even be bigger.

“You didn’t bother reading the medical report, did you?”

“It wasn’t made available to me.” A flimsy response, and Jesse smiled ruefully. They both knew Jack didn’t need anyone’s permission, it would’ve been a simple matter of overriding the medical system to see for himself.

“I won’t sugarcoat it for you,” Jesse crossed his arms, “there had been the start of something, inside me, that might’ve one day been an embryo.”

“…what?”

“That was what made me so ill, to put it simply,” Jesse grimaced, “I don’t remember all the fancy terms or explanations that were given to me. But…”

Jesse licked his lips, something flashed over his face too quick for Jack to catch.

“But whatever was growing was scooped out. All of it. I’m kind of a useless omega, now.”

“D-don’t say that, Jesse, you’re not useless, you’re—”

“Did I say you could call me Jesse?”

Jack’s mouth snapped shut.

“Look,” Jesse shifted, darting his eyes away, “I’m thankful for what you did, despite…everything that happened. You spared me a lot of pain. I could’ve died from it if you hadn’t fucked me.”

Jack winced, but didn’t interrupt.

“But this is the end of it, now,” Jesse’s expression hardened. “No more pussyfooting around. Gabe knows something’s up. He’s a smart man, he might even figure it out. When that day comes I don’t plan on being here anymore.”

“What are you saying…?”

“I’m saying once the year’s out I’m gone.”

Jack stared at him, not really comprehending it, at first.

“You…you’d be a wanted man, McCree. Gabe won’t just allow you to walk out. You _know_ he won’t. And the circumstances surrounding your employment in Blackwatch are—”

“I gotta do exactly what I gotta do to survive, _Morrison_. You wouldn’t know anything like it. I’m letting you know as a courtesy.”

Jesse stood and walked around the table, pausing by the door.

“I would’ve carried it, you know. Didn’t realize how much I’d want it now that I can’t do it anymore.”

He paused, Jack staring at his back.

“And if I ever catch you looking at me the way you do again, I’ll put a bullet ‘tween your eyes.”

He left.

 

 

 

Reyes paced the length of his quarters, pent up, frustrated, angered beyond belief. He always spent his heats alone, _always_ , and he usually relied on the assistance of toys and the like.

But he hadn’t been paying attention to the time, to the signs—begrudgingly he remembered his fight with Jesse, the little shit had been right on the mark—and he hadn’t had time to prepare. They were in an offsite base, and while Reyes had dedicated quarters he hadn’t occupied them in some time. He had nothing whatsoever to ease his symptoms. He cursed and kicked his desk, leaving a sizable dent in its metal side but he couldn’t muster the wherewithal to care.

His door beeped and slid open, and Jesse stepped inside, not looking up from his data pad until his nostrils flared and he glanced up, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Gabe?”

“Why the fuck are you here?” He snarled, ceasing his pacing.

“Scheduled meeting, asshole,” Jesse easily fired back, tapping at his pad before showing him the glowing appointment reminder.

“Fuck!” Reyes kicked the desk again. He hadn’t bothered to change his appointments.

“Everything…okay?”

“Don’t be cute, you know what’s wrong,” Reyes hissed. Jesse frowned but didn’t respond in kind. Instead he shut and locked the door behind him, placing his comm on the battered desk.

“C’mere,” Jesse murmured, and God when had his voice deepened so much? When had he gotten so big? Reyes felt himself swaying in Jesse’s direction and he shook his head, taking a step back.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Jesse frowned.

“Don’t. Be. Cute.” Reyes snarled.

“Do you want my help or not?” Jesse sighed, running a hand through his hair. Reyes tracked the motion, staring at the other man’s thick, calloused fingers, trembling at the thought of what they could do, what they would feel like on him, _inside_ him—

“C’mere,” Jesse repeated, softer, and this time Reyes couldn’t resist. He tripped over his own feet like a goddamn nervous virgin on his way to Jesse’s arms, but the other man caught him easily and pulled him close, instantly claiming his lips. Reyes moaned, letting himself fall into the kiss. It’d been so long since they’d done tender, or soft, or anything other than harsh fucking with lube and no words. Jesse always received, _always_ , and Reyes hadn’t given much thought to it.

He gasped into Jesse’s mouth when one of the man’s hands gripped over his crotch, giving him something solid and warm to rut into, though it didn’t linger for long. He slapped Reyes’s desperately fumbling hands away to make room, so Jesse could unzip him and free his cock to the warming air between them. He growled softly when Jesse took him in hand for a few quick strokes, before he rudely shoved his hand underneath, working his way in until Reyes choked on a whine.

Jesse’s fingers combed through the mess of hair and slick to penetrate him, for the first time, and it was so quick Reyes could barely pull himself together. Jesse’s hand worked furiously between his thighs, fingers plunging in and out at a cruel speed, and Reyes was helpless to do anything other than quake and moan in his arms.

“I don’t know how these things usually go for you,” Jesse panted in his ear, and Reyes muffled his whiny moan into the other man’s chest. Jesse sounded more than a little bitter. Reyes had never shared his heats, even after all the years they’d been together, though Jesse was always more than willing when his came around—not anymore—but he didn’t have the time to think on it. Jesse’s fingers curled and jabbed against his puffy insides, practically forcing an orgasm out of him.

“But, now that I’m here, it’s gonna be different.”

Reyes gaped up at him, shuddering and twitching through the remainder of his peak as Jesse’s fingers kept moving.

“All those things you used to do to me,” Jesse laughed mirthlessly, “back when I had no goddamn clue what I was. It was…cruel of you, Gabe.”

“J-Jesse, I…”

He broke off when Jesse tore his fingers out, shoving his pants the rest of the way off his legs. He crowded Reyes, backing him up until his legs hit the mattress and he toppled over, landing awkwardly on his side with Jesse in front of him. He stared, hungry but more than a little anxious in the face of Jesse’s strange behavior as the other man worked at his utility belt and pants.

“I remember my first heat,” Jesse continued to speak, “doubt I’ll ever forget it. I was still so small, back then. You were like a…like a fucking _god_. You were huge, impossibly strong, experienced. You knew what to do, and I let you do it.”

“Jesse,” Reyes tried to speak again, but his mouth ran dry when the other omega lifted off his combat vest and shirt, revealing that _scar_.

“Don’t stare,” Jesse ordered in a mock hurt tone, “you’re making me self-conscious.”

Gabe dragged his eyes from his stomach, traveling up to Jesse’s flinty expression, so strange, so _cold_. Jesse looked away and finished undressing, standing nude before him, so much bigger than Reyes in many ways. He shuddered.

“Do you remember when you told me my suppressants were causing problems for me? That op when I got this,” Jesse rubbed over the back of his neck, at the faint scar they both remembered.

“I talked to Genji about it. Took awhile for me to get around to it, and I didn’t get his letter for awhile after that. But he told me something interesting.”

Reyes swallowed, forcing himself to meet Jesse’s eyes.

“He said my behavior was a side-effect. I would’ve regulated after a few weeks of dosage, then I would’ve been back to normal, no heats, but normal. But, you told me…”

Jesse crawled on the bed, on top of him. Reyes didn’t dare move.

“You told me the suppressants were keeping me from healing properly. That, because I was on them, I couldn’t help but let alphas look at me, to want me. But that wasn’t true, was it?”

Jesse bracketed Reyes’s face between his arms, staring down at him with a blank expression, which was all the more menacing.

“It wasn’t the suppressants. My body couldn’t help but want what it wanted. Just because you only go for omegas doesn’t mean I’m the same. I _liked_ being looked at.”

Jesse’s knee bumped between his thighs, spreading him open.

“Took me awhile to realize it. I love you, Gabe, always have and probably always will, but I’m not the same as you. You just never gave me the chance to figure that out for myself.”

Reyes swallowed.

“Were you scared, Gabe? Were you scared I’d go off and fuck someone else instead of you? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

Reyes floundered, mouth working soundlessly in shock and confusion. Jesse kissed him before he could think up some ridiculous excuse, that Jesse would almost certainly see through in an instant. The other omega’s hips dropped over his, their groins bumping almost painfully until Jesse started up an easy, rhythmic grinding, dry over him compared to how wet his own opening was.

“Were you scared you wouldn’t have a needy little omega boy to fuck? No warm, wet place to sink your cock into every night?”

“Jesse, please, I—”

He choked and stared, painfully wide-eyed up at the other omega as Jesse pressed into him, cock nudging through his soaked folds to plunder his insides in a long, burning thrust. Jesse sighed and shut his eyes, pausing when he was fully seated. Reyes was shaking, impossibly tense around the length inside him but he couldn’t will himself to relax.

“You got me young, Gabe,” Jesse spoke, voice thin and strained, “and I’m ruined, now. For better or worse.”

“Jesse,” Reyes sobbed, close to tears. Jesse shushed him gently, hips rocking softly in and out, bullying his opening wider.

“It’s okay, jefe,” Jesse smiled, “I forgive you.”

What they did after could almost be called making love. But the bitterness of the past laid bare between them kept it from progressing tenderly. Things had changed between them, now, and Reyes was aware of it in the lucid moments between orgasms, in those hazy minutes when Jesse held himself up over his chest, cock twitching inside him in his own release. Distantly, Reyes wondered if this was actually Jesse’s first time topping, if Reyes had stolen that first from him as well.

“You’re mine, too, you know?” Jesse murmured, later when Reyes was mostly spent but far from lucid.

“You might’ve taken me, made me your own, but Gabe,” Jesse nuzzled under his chin and scented him, licking the sweaty column of his throat, “you’ll remember me forever, won’t you?”

Reyes tried to deny it, but he knew it to be true.

“Guess you’re ruined, too,” Jesse said.


	10. What Is and What Should Never Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And if I say to you tomorrow, take my hand, child, come with me. It's to a castle I will take you, where what's to be, they say will be.

The wind snapped through his clothes, over his skin, but he ignored it. There was only sand for miles around, stretched out before him in a smear of pale paint against a blue sky. It disappeared into the hazy, dancing horizon line, warped in the heat. He brought his hand to his face, to wipe some imagined sweat from his brow, hesitated, then let his arm fall to his side once again. He didn’t sweat much these days.

“They are approaching,” terse, accented words crackled through his earpiece, “through the tunnel. Five seconds.”

He glanced up and just barely caught the glint of a rifle sight in the old cell tower before it disappeared.

“Good,” he replied. The oily rasp of his voice was no longer a surprise to him, though it had been, once. His voice was never so deep as this, nor raspy. Just one of the changes in his body that made it less…his.

He looked over in time to see the hyper train pierce through the tunnel, still small as a dot on the horizon line, though it was quickly gaining ground.

“Widowmaker,” he prompted, and he needn’t say more. The booming report of a high power rifle echoed through the hollows of his head, and a streak of burning metal ripped through the air. He didn’t hear it make contact, he didn’t need to; the sight alone was enough confirmation. With a small pop of light, the front end of the train exploded off the track, and all the cars behind piled and screeched along beside it. It was a colossal wreck, there would be many casualties, deaths, but he knew one among them would survive.

Cockroaches had that nasty habit of sticking around.

 

 

When the wrecked train car finally— _finally_ —came to a screeching stop McCree groaned and rolled on his side. The old woman he’d been sitting next to was safe, sheltered beneath his bulk through the crash, and he made sure to feel for pulse and breath just in case before staggering to his feet. Children were wailing all around him, women and men alike screaming for loved ones, for help. He blinked through the smoke and stinging blaze and tore through the panel beside him for an exit. Thankfully he didn’t need to direct anyone, passengers piled out behind him just as quickly as he had. He didn’t have time to play hero, he couldn’t afford to go back in to help.

He frantically scanned the horizon line, laying low, keeping to the back of the flock of confused and shell-shocked tourists, and ripped off his serape, and his hat. They would only be glaring targets amidst the casual dress of the passengers.

He slowly moved back to the tunnel. He knew an untrained eye wouldn’t find him amidst the chaos and rubble, but he wasn’t working against the untrained. Those men had the skills of Blackwatch agents, and besides McCree there was only one other person capable of teaching those methods. He slumped against the tunnel wall once he made it to cover, eyes painfully wide as he tried to keep watch on both ends.

He’d come for McCree. There was no doubt in his mind. Whatever that device had been in lockup, McCree knew it was a diversion. They hadn’t given up the pursuit even after he’d kicked it off. Should’ve been enough of a hint for him, then.

He heard the heavy boot steps materialize as if out of thin air, and had enough time to suck in a breath and drop before the tunnel wall behind him exploded in a hail of rubble and rock on his head and shoulders. He didn’t look, he didn’t think, he just ran. Booming followed him, more rock and debris rained down on him as he went, and a small, unchecked part of himself began to panic.

 

 

Reaper breathed shallowly through the smoke, able to clearly see through it with a mix of infrared and other sensory filters in his mask. He followed his prey through the wreck, faster and faster as McCree picked up speed, his old bones no doubt relying more on ingrained training and instinct, at this point. He sneered when he imagined the man at his side once again, what he’d be capable of…

He didn’t allow sentiment to cloud his judgement when he got off a lucky shot. McCree shouted, rocking forward and sprawling onto the ground. His cybernetic arm sparked and crackled, as wasted as the train, useless and unresponsive now. He came upon the fallen man, and waited. McCree groaned, shuffling onto his back with pained, labored breaths, and finally opened his eyes to look up at him.

Whatever breath Reaper had seized in his throat. It was his turn to drop, just in time for a bullet to graze a burning path across his mask. The both of them panted and kicked out at the other, grappling for the upper hand in an uncoordinated scuffle over the dirt. Even down an arm, McCree was a formidable fighter, desperate and vicious in a way Reaper was unfamiliar with. McCree seemed plenty familiar with his style, however, and soon enough had Reaper beneath him, arms pinned under his knees with his bulk pressing down on his abdomen and chest.

McCree was out of breath, wheezing through the smoke quickly filling the tunnel. The man must have known he didn’t have much time. He retrieved his gun—Peacekeeper, that useless piece of antiquated garbage; the real danger lay behind the man’s eyes—and pressed it against Reaper’s forehead. His mask was strong enough to repel scatter shot, or some glancing blow, but at this range it wouldn’t matter.

“Is this how you wanted it to be?” McCree spoke. He choked on his words, voice a harsh, cracking mess of emotion and strain. “How’d we get here, huh?!” He pressed down harder, crushing Reaper’s head into the dirt.

“For the longest time I felt stupid as hell, not seeing the badness in you,” he continued speaking, and Reaper was willing to oblige him, for the moment. He was able to just barely press the beacon signal at his thigh; reinforcements, or Widow, at least, would be on them shortly. 

“Figures it’d be like this,” McCree laughed, “me, the criminal, turned out good. You, though…” He laughed again, as bitter as ash, “did I even know you at all?”

“You did,” Reaper replied, still wanting to assure the other man after all this time, to offer some semblance of comfort, “for a time.”

McCree sobbed and pulled his gun away to cover his face, shoulders hitching in some untold amount of sorrow and pain. Reaper had done that to him. This shell of a man above him was formed in his image, in Gabriel’s image.

The beacon signal vibrated. Backup was incoming, and McCree—his Jesse—was unaware. It was a stupid mistake, taking the gun off him, and Reaper snarled. McCree should’ve known better, _did_ know better.

“There’s only one way this is gonna end,” McCree finally spoke, broken and quiet, as he cocked Peacekeeper and resumed his stance. Reaper looked up the barrel of the antique and was unafraid.

“You’re right,” Reaper agreed softly. He heard the crack of the shot, closed his eyes, and felt McCree’s weight topple onto his chest. Blood splashed hot over his mask and onto his face beneath it. He opened his eyes, blinded by McCree’s unruly hair and his blood, and sat up.

“I did not kill him,” Widowmaker defended herself before Reaper even spoke. “The wound is nonlethal, for now.”

“For now,” Reaper growled, exasperated. The entire mission would be a bust if McCree died, and the sniper knew that just as well as he did. The other Talon leaders had been correct in assuming McCree would let his guard down around Reaper.

Now all that was left was extraction.

 

* * *

 

Jesse woke in a red fog of pain and nausea. He rolled over and heaved, spilling bile onto the tiled floor in a rancid stream. Shuddering and wheezing he righted himself as best he could. His arm was gone completely, the socket cleaned out and bandaged shut, and his entire left side was numb.

He noted he’d been undressed, shaved, and cleaned, and he shivered in a thin paper gown on his bed. What did he remember last? The fight, and then…

He jerked his head to the door. A dark figure was standing beside it, arms crossed, waiting.

“Gabe…?”

The figure didn’t move for a careful moment, then pushed off the wall to slowly cross the room.

“What do you remember, Jesse?”

“I remember…”

Thing was, he couldn’t. There was a block in his head, a sort of fog thicker than anything he could get through, and could only retrieve snippets of memory, flashes of emotion, and heat.

“We had an argument,” Jesse started slowly, words harder to string together than he was used to, “I threatened to leave and you…” He paused, fighting for breath as a searing pain lanced through his skull.

“What happened after all that, Jesse?”

He didn’t even think about how Gabe sounded, how different he looked.

“The bomb. Terrorist? No, no it wasn’t, was it…”

Gabe waited patiently for Jesse to gain his bearings, to recall the fuzzy memories that seemed just out of his reach, unformed like wisps of smoke. Something tickled the back of his neck, a twinge he hadn’t felt before, and he reached for it.

“Jesse,” Gabe prompted again, starting to sound a little impatient.

“The UN,” Jesse finally forced out. It felt like the right thing to say, and Gabe’s shoulders relaxed.

“They bombed…Blackwatch. Inside job,” Jesse continued. “Both of us caught in the blast, I…”

He broke off and groaned, cupping his throbbing head in his hand. It was all a jumbled mess. It hurt to think about it, to prod around that black gape in his memory.

“It’s alright now, Jesse. You’re safe.”

“Why do I feel all wrong? My body, it’s…”

“You’ve been in a coma. Might as well tell you. Five years.”

Jesse couldn’t think of anything to say. He stared down at his covered body, at his missing arm.

“But it’s alright, Jesse. You’re awake, and now we can begin.”

“Begin what?”

Jesse watched Gabe come much closer. A small part of him wanted to be afraid, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, that strange prickling started again—he was aware of something solid and cold at his nape, like his spine was exposed to the air—but when Gabe finally stood at his side and threaded his fingers through his hair, Jesse found it hard to focus past the sensation.

“Our revenge, Jesse. Against the UN, against Jack.”

Jack. He couldn’t remember everything, but he remembered enough about _him_.

“When do we start?”

 

 

“He is a sentimental fool.”

Moira glanced up from her data pad. Widowmaker stood in front of the observation glass, watching Reaper help McCree to his feet, shaky as a newborn—a newborn he was, brain scraped raw, reset like a system—with one hand carefully cradled beneath the metal spine apparatus at the base of McCree’s neck, the one thing responsible for enabling him to walk, let alone move.

“You’re lucky I’m here,” Moira spoke, choosing to ignore the other woman’s remark, “McCree would be useless if he’d been truly paralyzed.”

“Lucky,” Widowmaker scoffed. “I would receive no punishment save Reaper’s hatred. This was a fool’s errand, a useless expense of assets and resources.”

“I forget you’ve never seen McCree in action,” Moira muttered. “He is an expert marksman, a force to be reckoned with. And his connection to Reaper might have proven problematic if left unchecked.”

“What use have we for another good shot? I never miss.”

“Is that pride, I hear? Think what you want but believe me when I say this,” Moira joined the sniper by the glass, watching with some curiosity as McCree clumsily embraced Reaper with his one arm, burying his face between the mercenary’s mask and chest. She wondered what McCree saw, because it certainly wasn’t the death mask and necrotic flesh underneath it. The mysteries of the brain were a puzzle Moira had yet to solve completely, and she had to admit a small bit of doubt over whether McCree came out of the procedure intact.

“You may be able to perfectly execute an assassination and disappear without a trace. But that man has the ability to kill over ten men in the blink of an eye. How he came to develop this skill is a mystery, not even I could discern its origins. I aided McCree in perfecting it, enhancing it, and I certainly wouldn’t want my work running about unchecked.”

Widowmaker said nothing, but Moira saw the feral glint of competition in her eye. She made a mental note to examine the woman later, to scrub and start again. She didn’t want one of her living weapons to grow out of control.

Moira had only known McCree for a few scarce months, before he ran, before the explosion, but what she’d seen had been enough to peak her interest. He’d allowed her to examine his eyes, finding the whole practice a little funny, and she grimaced at the memory. Of course that Neanderthal wouldn’t realize the power he wielded, nor did he notice anything amiss when she’d conducted a few small experiments when he was under for routine operations, or surgeries after missions. She’d become a little possessive, and perhaps prideful in her work as she read mission reports of McCree in the field, how the man had struck down whole groups of hostiles in seconds, body count rising with each successful mission, up to the end.

She watched unaffected as McCree pressed a hesitant kiss to Reaper’s mask. Whatever he was saying was too low for the room’s cameras to pick up, but Reaper glanced once behind McCree’s shoulder, to the glass, then placed his free hand over McCree’s groin. Moira smirked when the younger man groaned, slumping into Reaper’s hold.

She knew of their relationship and their statuses, and that McCree was sterile, but she could make certain tweaks, could prod around and… _fix_ things. The surgery had butchered him, but Moira was confident she could repair the damage. Two omegas could not beget young, but Reaper was hardly the man he once was, thanks to her. She thought about the possibilities of their resulting spawn. What curiosities would it develop?

And what self-respecting scientist wouldn’t pursue the possibility of replicating a successful experiment?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was doomed to have a terrible ending from the start, and while I left it mostly open ended I think we can decide for ourselves what exactly happened to Jesse, and what WILL happen after this. 
> 
> Thank you everyone SO SO MUCH for sticking with me for over a YEAR on this fic! There's more to come in this universe! I love you all :))))


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